Passion Like Fire
by smartywitchMione
Summary: Hermione and Scabior meet by chance. Is destiny about to change?
1. Chapter 1

**Authors note. This story began due to a brief yet wonderful RP story, between myself. smartywitch and scabiorsexysnatcher on Hyves. After continuing the story much further in the future, I felt the gap in between needed to filled. And that in essence is the premise for this story. The first few chapters are from that RP and most of the genius came from Scabior. I must admit. After that, it's mostly me, with inspiration from the lovely Scabs! Hope you enjoy! **

Chapter 1.

They had only just escaped from the Ministry, without being caught; now they were going to be hiding in the woods. With each minute that passed, it all became so real for Hermione; they were in trouble, a lot of it. And now they were risking even more, they couldn't travel, not with the way that Ron had been hurt, he would need time to rest. At least Harry and her were able to keep look out, set up the enchantments to keep them safe. She had travelled into this small town, via apparation to get some supplies, mainly to get something to help Ron with the pain. He was baring it well, but it was obvious that he was in an enormous amount of pain.

She had spent hours researching which town would be best to go to. This one had a small apothecary tucked out of sight; she would be slip in and out, without being seen hopefully. That was the plan anyway. Keeping her head low, her arms wrapped tightly around her, she practically scurried down the alley that she needed. Halfway down the alley, the hairs on the back of her neck stood up, she could almost sense someone was following her. Stopping abruptly and turning quickly to be faced with the most peculiar man she had ever seen. What perplexed her most was that he made no attempt to hide himself. He just stood there, as if it was the most common and normal thing in the world. Little did she know, for him, following someone was.

His face was a mask of unreadable expression. His arms dangled by the side of his body, though his outward appearance was calm and relaxed, his entire body was a coiled spring, ready to snap to attention, react as the situation called for it. He studied the girl in front of him, she was studying him the way he was her. From the moment she had turned, he knew exactly who she was. Had almost been certain of it beforehand, the hair had given her away. It seemed as untameable as his was. His bright blue eyes shone in the darkness; there was a great price on her head, very great. She was the brains behind Harry Potter. From the money he made from handing her in would set him up for a life once the Potter boy was dead.

The smallest twitch of her hand caught his gaze, his eye fixing on her hand. She was moving for her wand. He took a careful step forward. "What's your name?" He asked suddenly, his eyes moving back up to her face. Her arm stopping as if she knew that he had caught her movement. Sliding her thumb into her pocket, to appear that she wasn't bothered by his presence.

"I'll give you mine, if you give me yours." She answered quickly. His lips twitched, into a wry smile. She was quick, he liked that. She would be fun to play with that was certain. A very small part of him regretted that he would have to hand her over.

"Now, why would I do that love?" He countered, his wry smile staying in place. His head lowering predatorily. He was looking like the hunter he was now.

"Only common courtesy." She said, folding her arms across her chest, highlighting the swell of her breasts for his viewing.

He wouldn't deny that she was beautiful. In a modest, simple kind of way. "Scabior." He grunted, before looking at her expectantly. "Hermione." Thinking that she was being careful, she followed his lead, only telling him her first name. Seeming completely unfazed by this, with deliberate slowness, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a sheet of parchment. Running his finger along it, for dramatic effect, the fact that her name was at the top was beside the point. Mumbling 'Mione' as he looked down the list. Folding it and placing it back in pocket, he finally looked back at her, his eyes now possessing the gleam of the hunter, anticipating the chase. "You're searched for. It's time you came with me Mione."

Her stomach dropped, silently praying to Merlin that she could make it out of here. "Really? Searched for by whom?" She questioned, trying to appear ignorant to any knowledge about this.

He took another step towards her, his hand shooting out, but not grabbing her. Not yet. "Just come with me love. Nice and easy." He said, fixing his eyes on her, hoping to use whatever charm was within them to charm her into taking his hand, they had seemed to woo most women into bed with him, and perhaps it could help here. Although he relished the chase, his men weren't far away. If it came to a chase she could and probably would get hurt, with an odd compulsion, he didn't want to see that happen. Watching as she flinched slightly, she held her ground. Another thing he found himself respecting her for.

"Who wants me and where do you intend on taking me?" She asked, her voice dropping a level as his eyes seemed to shimmer and almost glow. She could feel herself becoming transfixed by them. Enchanted. They were the most beautiful colour she had ever seen. And they fitted his handsome, rugged features perfectly.

He should be taking her to the Ministry, but because of who she was, he would take her to Malfoy Manor. "Just come with me." He said softly, using a soft and compelling tone. He could tell it had worked the second her hand slid from her crossed arms, tentatively reaching out to his extended hand, her fingers only just touching his. With a swiftness, which most didn't expect from him, he pulled her close, nestling her against his side. " 'Old that thought love." He chuckled, before using his other hand to signal that they were moving out. Apparating quickly before she had the chance to change her mind.

Hermione had no idea why she was doing this, reaching out to this man, she had a good idea of where he would take her, the Ministry, but she had found her way out once before, not too long ago. It wouldn't be hard to do again. Seeing as though she still had her wand. But as the view in front of her became clearer, her mouth dropped. This had to be the Malfoy Manor. What had she gotten herself into? "Son of a ..." She started before a hand clamped over her mouth.

"Now now, easy love." He chuckled, the sound stopping as she wriggled free from his arm, grabbing one of hers in return. Idly, he noted that now, she decided to run. He wasn't marking much for her intelligence right now. She had just accepted it so easily and now that reality was crashing down around her, she thought it best to run. He shook his head at both the thought and her.

She had to get away, just into the copse of trees over there, she could hide and apparate away, she couldn't do it while he was holding her, the most ridiculous and idiotic plan occurred to her and it would only leave her with a very small window of opportunity. But it was the only thing she could think of, before he tried to over power her. Spinning on him, she leant up quickly and kissed him.


	2. Chapter 2

**Authors note. Here it is. The second chapter. It needs to be said, that this chapter is also from the combined minds of Scabior and I. He deserves some extra credit, as some of his text, from the original RP is within this chapter! It's because of you Scabs! 3**

**Thankyou for all the reviews, it encouraged me to get this next chapter up and ready. Hope you enjoy!**

Stunned. The Snatcher was completely stunned. What was she doing? His mind was working against his body. It took him no more that a few moments, before he began to kiss her back, roughly pressing his lips against her younger fuller ones. Yet his mind was telling him to stop, they were just about to meet the Dark Lord. Any form of copulation with Muggle Borns was forbidden, frowned upon and looked at as a disgusting act. All of his snatchers were watching her last attempt at freedom. He could almost admire her; she was willing to do almost anything, so that she wouldn't die. He couldn't deny that he was slightly curious just how far she would go, to save her life. Even though it was futile. Sometimes, his mind disgusted him.

This was it, she had her moment of confusion. She just needed to break away, but then he was kissing her back. It was entirely unexpected, but oddly, she enjoyed it. She shouldn't, she should be pushing him away now, not wrapping her arms around his neck, like she was. Not weaving her hands into his hair. She shouldn't be enjoying the earthy smell of him, or be finding the manly scent intoxicating. Tentatively, she parted her lips slightly, sweeping her tongue along his bottom lip. Where her sudden confidence came from, she didn't know. Before now, she had never really been kissed before, aside from a young sweet kiss shared with Viktor Krum.

He didn't need any more prompting than that, her timid approach of him was intriguing, but he was quickly losing that functional, thinking part of his brain, his more primal urges were taking over. From the moment he had smelt her, it had started. She was meant to be his, for now at least. She wouldn't survive much longer anyway. And right now, the fact that it was forbidden, made it all the more enticing. A battle for dominance had begun, the dance of their tongues heightening the need he had inside him right now.

Her new position gave him the chance to wrap his arms around her waist, lifting her up off the floor, had he been that kind of man, he would have been delighted as her legs automatically wrapped around his hips. The only tell that he approved, was the smirk that pulled at the edges of his lips. Being taller had it's advantages. He moved with her until he had he pressed against a tree, the other Snatchers around were completely forgotten. He broke the kiss, a wry smirk on his face, one hand slithered up her side to her neck. Holding her almost dangerously. A mischievous and lust filled twinkle in his eyes.

"I'm no kindly man, my lovely." He said, his voice a little husky from containing himself. Oddly, he felt like a teen again. Sure, he wanted to take her. In everyway possible, yet, a small part of him wanted to be sure that this was what she wanted.

A small bark of laughter came from her, the entire situation was astounding. Her she was, in a compromising situation, against a tree with a man she didn't know. What did it matter if he was kind or not. It wasn't like she was able to get away now. It wasn't like salvation was about to come running over the hilltop any moment and rescue her. As soon as she was inside that Manor. She would face things even her wildest and nastiest dreams hadn't covered. Torture, being forced to betray her friends. And death. That was all that awaited her now. This was the last time she would breath fresh air.

"That doesn't matter now does it? Not once I'm in there." She accentuated her point by nodding to the Manor behind him. "Not with what will happen..." She trailed off, trying not to think about it. It might be easier to deal with if she didn't over think and analyse everything before getting in there. If she held onto the hope that maybe, just maybe, she might make it out alive. It was time she was just a little selfish, most of her life had been given to helping others. It was time she took something for herself. Did something she wanted, even if it was so completely out of how she normally was. Without caring, she leant in and kissed him again. What did it matter after all?

He returned each kiss she gave him with a smirk on his face. His hands supporting her waist, he pressed himself closer to her, enjoying the slight moan that came from her from his action. As she gripped her hands to his shoulders, he began to feel the passion that lay dormant in her. This would be interesting. He guessed she had made her choice as she started to undo the buttons of his shirt, timidly stroking the now exposed area.

"Keen aren't you?" He muttered near her ear, enjoying what she was doing to him. And enjoying the prospect of what he was going to do to her. "Keen not to die a Mudblood virgin?" He didn't care if his words hurt her or not, his lips had already set on her skin, sucking and nipping her neck, licking down her collarbone. His hands sliding down over her breasts and sides, resting near her lower region, sliding her skirt up her legs, tugging at her knickers in his impatience.

"Don't call me a Mudblood." She half whispered half moaned, his hands moving over her body made her tingle in all the right places, her back arching up into his touch. Embarrassment should have filled her as he pulled against her underwear, only it didn't. She was close to being lost to the throes of passion. That there was, for once, nothing else on her mind. Nothing at all. Her head rested against the tree, mouth hanging slightly open, her breathing ragged, as new and pleasurable sensations washed through her.

Balling her fist in hair, cradling his head against the top of her chest. Shamelessly she wanted to rub herself against him, only the tiny piece of moral behaviour stopped her. She wanted him to touch her al over and never stop. She was completely lost.

He wanted her, from the moment he met her, smelt her, felt her small body against his. The moment he had touched her hair, he knew she was his. She was meant to be his. It angered him that she wasn't a pure blood. That she was the lowest of the low. She would have to meet her end, die. Especially since she was a traitor. A friend of the blasted Harry Potter.

Ever the practical man, he decided that there was no time for passionate loving. No matter how much he wanted to taste this girl, touch her all over and feel each and every part of her, the other snatchers were still nearby and watching. He turned his head to address them, using a tone that accepted no argument or disagreement. "Avert your eyes!" Most took the hint and left, while others just turned around.

When Scabior turned back to face the girl he still had trapped between the tree and himself, his blue eyes were filled with a mixture of emotions. Sadness, compassion, lust, love and regret. He'd wanted it to be special for her, but there simply was no time. And thus he unbuttoned his pants and while he distracted her by bestowing her with kisses and licks all over her upper body, he readied himself at her entrance. The tip of his manhood now rested there and he could feel how she was already slick. She must have gotten turned on, and the thought pleased him. In one smooth motion he slowly pushed himself inside, stretching her young body and earning a moan as he buried himself deep down inside of her.

A small whimper escaped her, she wouldn't lie, it did hurt. Clamping her mouth shut, breathing through her nose, just until the pain subsided. Though it was uncomfortable, it didn't take away that need inside her for this. The pleasure feeling was still there, still burning within her. The look in his eyes was playing on her mind a little, they were betraying something within him. Betraying something he had said earlier. He was kind. Or at least he had moments of kindness. But she wouldn't fixate on it. It would hurt her later when he turned her over to the people that would kill her, if she did. If she let herself feel for him.

All thoughts were pushed out of her mind as his hands gripped her hips and began thrusting, a devilish mix of pain and pleasure washed through her. Tendrils of intense electric passion sweeping through her veins. Without her command, her legs would tighten and relax around him in time with his movements. Small moans beginning to some from her, every cell in her body began to hum for him.

He increased the pace slowly as he started working a rhythm. His eyes would close form time to time as he moaned. His hands tightened on her body, his thrusts getting harder and deeper as he felt how her body responded deliciously to him. She was tightening, her body begging for his 'milk', and his own body painfully wanting release. He grunted again as he thrust deep inside of her. He became less gentle, less caring as only his own need started to count now. As soon as her body started to tremble around him and she cried out softly as her orgasm hit, he could feel himself being taken with her, thrusting inside of her hard for one more time, filling her completely and releasing himself inside of her.

A peaceful calm engulfed her, that wonderful release left her body tired and invigorated at the same time. Her legs were currently locked around him, she had no control of her limbs right now. His head was resting against her shoulder, she could feel the smirk on his face, if she had been able to follow the impulse, she would have reached up to stroke his hair. Even though she was trying not to, a small part of her heart was beginning to feel for him. The rational part of her brain telling her that it was only because of what they had just done.

The calm peaceful feeling she had, abruptly left her as the sound of the other Snatchers returning hit her ears. Her already laboured breathing hitched, as she felt tears sting her eyes. This was it, there was no way out of it. Her heart thundered in her chest for another reason. Hermione knew it was futile, but she had try one last time. In a different way.

"Is there nothing I can say that will change your mind and let me go?" She hated the pleading sound in her voice, but it was there. It had a reason to be there. "Any way you won't deliver me like a lamb to the slaughter?"

"No." He replied as he withdrew, righting his clothes and helping her with hers. He didn't want the other Snatchers to see her undressed state. She wasn't for their eyes. Once they were both presentable, he wrapped an arm around her shoulder, guiding her away from the tree. Leaning his head down, to speak in her ear, he took a deep breath, relishing in her scent, now also mixed with his own. He really had just claimed her. "But there might be a way to keep you alive."

He felt her shoulders sag in defeat, he wanted to offer her a reassurance. But he wasn't one for false hope. True hope either. Generally, he just didn't care about anyone, aside from how much money he could make from handing them over. He felt her tense for a moment, as if she was going to run again, but then she sagged again. Guessing she realised she had no chance of outrunning them. He smirked as he thought his ears picked up a whispered thank you. Had she really just thanked him? For what? He must have imagined it.

Lowering his arm to her waist, pulling her closer against him, he signalled to his men. "To the Malfoy Manor!" Without another second passing, they all disapparated. Reappearing at the gate to the Manor. With a swiftness that had taken years to accomplish, his hand moved to her collar, dragging her along unceremoniously and uncomfortably.

It was time to deliver her to the Dark Lord.


	3. Chapter 3

**So here it is, the next update. This time, I seriously need the credit to go to Scabior. It was your pure brilliance and genius that got us this far! xD I must be honest, that some of this is directly ripped from the RP we had, Scabs mostly. You may think me a cheat, but, when the perfect words are before you, why change them? Thank you once again for the reviews, they really mean a lot to me. There's nothing else left to say other than, I hope you enjoy again. And yes, this chapter is substantially longer! xD**

Holding her by the scruff of her neck, the collar of her jacket, he was able to manoeuvre her easily, push her along. He could feel her resisting him, with just a quick glance at her feet, he could see her trying to dig her heels in. If she was pretending, if she was acting that she was scared, if she had even believed him to begin with, she was making a good show of it. Unceremoniously, he showed her to the gatekeeper, gaining them entrance to the grounds.

With a particularly strong backwards push, he almost lost his grip on her, moving his hand, he gripped both of her behind her back. Holding her wrists tightly in his large hand, his free hand moving back to her collar. Her repeated pleas found his ears and a moment of guilt washed through him. He might not be able to give her what she wanted. A chance to live. In the last few hours, he had taken everything from her. Her freedom, her innocence and now, he was playing with her life. He would do his best though. He wasn't done with her yet.

Pure panic swept through her, her heart raced as she tried to think of a way out of this. But with her hands held behind her back, there was much she could do. Tears streamed down her cheeks, a silent plea from someone, anyone, to help her. But as the giant doors in front of her opened, exposing the grand house inside, it seemed that hope was lost. She didn't have the chance to take in which corridors they went down, the twists and turns her captor was able to traverse easily, that escaping now would be impossible. She would get lost long before she found the exit.

She was stopped in front of a pair of grand doors, the hand on her collar let go, sweeping down over her waist. Searching first her front pockets, before running his hand over her back pockets. Pulling her wand free and placing it somewhere that wasn't on her. The neck thing she knew, she was being passed to someone else, a strong arm clamped around her neck. The vilest, most repulsive smell hit her nose, a moment before realisation made her blood run cold. Fenrir Greyback was now holding her. Not too gently either. And then the door were opening and the sight within stopped her breath.

A long table, surrounded by faces and voices she both knew and didn't know. One that chilled her the most, was her old Professor, Snape. Seeing him here, it reminded her of what he had done. The life he had taken from the world. Had she been able to, she would have tried too attack him. Other she recognised from the Battle at the Ministry or the Battle over Little Whinging. And then her eyes came to rest on the Dark Lord himself. Only the tight restricting arm around her neck compelled her to move into the room.

Scabior swept into the room, giving a low deep bow to the Dark Lord. He had been through this so many times, that it was like second nature to him. The Dark Lord, all that were in charge, seemed to appreciate his humble behaviour. Waiting for the room to fall silent, so his triumph would be heard by all. "I bring you the Granger witch, Mi'lord."

"So I see." The snake like voice sounded. Voldemort stood, eyeing the girl that had just been caught, he almost glided around the table, moving closer to Hermione. His cold dead eyes fixed on the girl. "She looks rather flushed. And I can smell the stench of you on her. What did you do Snatcher? Mate with her? You know that is strictly prohibited."

Scabior bowed deeply once again, his face towards the floor, he grit his teeth for a moment, keeping his bowed form there for longer than necessary. "It was nothing more than a rush of lust Mi'lord." Bringing himself back up, he gave a small smirk. "She'd make a nice pet."

The Dark Lord laughed lazily at that. "You think so? Her blood is bad Scabior. Though it is given to us, that she is the smartest witch of her age."

"I was thinking," Scabior started, but Voldemort cut him short. "Well, dont!"

The dangerous wizard gave both of them a long look, no sound in the room, it all tension. Finally, he swept back to the head of the table. Resting spread fingers upon the table top. " I can read you, both of you. You want to use her as bait, for the Potter boy, am I right? Very clever Scabior. Very clever. Hmm, perhaps there is a chance for her life as she wishes after all. For the time being. It looks like she will be a pet after all."

Feigning shock, Scabior bowed low once again, only to hide the smirk upon his face. Things were going just as he had planned. Just the way he wanted them to go. It seemed the Dark Lord was in a generous mood today.

With only a slight nod from Voldemort, Fenrir let go of the nearly suffocating girl. The grip the wolf had had on her had been cutting off her air supply, as a result, she dropped to the floor, almost in a heap. Coughing quietly, as air now burned her throat, her stomach still rolling with nausea from being so close to the vile smelling wolf. She wanted to look up, at the man that was currently her saviour. He may have put her in this situation, but he had also just saved her life.

She didn't know how to feel. She was going to be made a traitor. Was her life really worth it? She was pulled to her feet by Scabior, no gentleness was in his touch. She still looked to the ground, until she heard the Dark Lord speak again, her head came up and her breathing stopped.

"Severus?" The hissing voice asked, no further explanation given.

The Potions Master stood, giving only the slightest incline of his head, before resting his icy glare on her. "If, it is what my Lord wishes."

The conversation between the two was broken, by the sight of Scabior dusting Hermiones clothes off.

"What is you're doing? Ahh, I see. You want the girl for yourself?" Voldemort queried. Only the simplest of answers returned from the Snatcher as his eyes fixed on the face of the Dark Lord. He wasn't going to lie. "Perhaps, Mi'lord."

"Fine, then she is yours for the taking. I trust you'll not let her escape. Keep her locked up and immobile. If nothing else, the boy that loves her will look for her. In the meantime I don't care what her fate will be. You do what you think best. I can trust you on that, can't I, Scabior?"

"Of course you can Mi'lord." He wrapped an arm around her waist, pulling her closer against his side. "She won't get away from me, my lord."

With that all said and done, they were allowed to leave. Keeping her close by his side, he moved with her out of the room they had just been in and down yet another corridor. Passing several doors on the way, until he led her into a parlour. Closing the door and moving her to a chair, and practically sitting her down. She appeared to be in shock. He then moved to a cabinet, that held many bottles of alcohol, the fine kind, that had been moved into crystal bottles. Pouring himself a glass of Fire Whiskey and downing it in one go, before turning back to her.

"Want some?"

She looked up at him, her mind trying to process everything that happened, in the short few hours since she had been in the small town. She blinked a few times, bringing herself back to what was currently happened. She huffed a laugh. "More than you can imagine."

Inside, she couldn't stop the trembling. She had been more terrified than she ever had been in her entire life, but adrenaline had kept her strong through it all, now it partially over, her fear of the situation was descending on faster than an eagle on prey. Slowly she stood up, unsteady legs carrying her closer to him. He was the closest thing to comfort and security she had right now.

She moved until she was stood before him, searching her mind for the right way to thank him. Though she couldn't think about what was to come, what she was going to be used for, she still knew that her life had hung in the balance. That he had swayed things in her favour just enough, that she could live another day. She did the only thing she could think of, she leant up and kissed him once again. A silent thank you.

Breaking the kiss, she could see the colour of his eyes had darkened a little and now he watched her intently, as she took a step back from him. Chewing her bottom lip, worriedly. "What happens now?"

He thought carefully about her words, about how to answer, drumming his fingers on the edge of the cabinet, which he also now began to lean against. Sweeping a hand through his hair, he kept his eyes on her, almost waiting for her to try something. "What happens now? Good question. I can't let you go, it would be the end of both of us... Pet." He said, added the last word to tease her, over what she was now classed as to him.

A small smile tugged at the edges of her lips as he teased her, something deep inside her finding humour in that rather than is being derogatory. Slowly, she reached for the bottle of alcohol, she needed something to still this tremble inside of her. Placing it to her lips, smelling the fumes coming off it. Tilting it back, she poured some into her mouth, swallowing it quickly. Coughing some as the burning liquid travelled down her throat. "I know I might regret this, but how do you intend to keep me immobile."

He gave he a feint smile, both at the look upon her face, as she had drunk and at her question. "There are many ways. Most are by spells, magical leashes or collars. But I know you're smart. It would be all too simple for you to break out of it. They say you are the smartest witch of your age. I can't risk it." He ran a hand through his messy curls. "I know of something, but it'll be painful pet."

She grunted a half hearted laugh. "I wouldn't expect anything less than painful. I don't suppose I could just give you my word that I won't run away?" She eyed him almost expectantly.

"No love. I'll have to make sure you don't walk away." His voice turned cold and emotionless, his gaze icy. "I'll have to disable the use of your legs."

"Any chance I can be somewhere comfortable when you do that then?" She quipped, earning her yet another small smile. She turned away from him slightly, her gaze dropping, her sharp mind picking up on one small flaw with his plan. "How... will I be safe, from all the others here, if I can't move? It wouldn't take them long to seize the chance to kill me."

"They won't." His replied, voice full of confidence. "They won't touch you if you're mine." His hands balled into fists, watching her like a hawk. He did something unexpected. "You love the redhead?" he asked, his voice sharp and his words bitter. He was somehow bothered by the thought of Hermione waiting for someone to rescue her.

"I don't know." She whispered.

"And Potter?" He lashed out again.

She couldn't stop the flinch that overcame her as he mentioned Harry. Turning to him, confused by the tone in his voice, the possessiveness she heard. "Harry is like a brother to me. They won't come for me. I hope they don't. What I feel for them doesn't matter anymore. Does it?" She spoke softly and calmly. Trying to catch his eye, make him look at her.

"You don't understand." He said through gritted teeth, his hands still clenching in front of him. He didn't look at her, he just couldn't. "I've taken you away from your friends and your love. I've stolen your body and your soul. I snatched all of you. Do you really think it'd be better to be with me alive than out there ... dead?" Something about him was changing. His mood was rapidly becoming worse, making him look and sound dangerous.

"The world spins on what ifs. What if I hadn't taken that step toward you? What if I had grabbed my wand and attacked you? What if I had run when I caught you by surprise by kissing you?" She took a deep breath, looking back at the ground. "You haven't taken anything I didn't give freely. You didn't force me." She was silent for awhile. "Yes. It is better to be alive with you than to be dead." She whispered.

He gave her a faint smile and looked at her from the corners of his eyes, not turning to face her properly yet as she was talking. She'd replied to his question in a way he had thought her capable of but hadn't expected. She remained strong and brave, and told him that being with him was better than being dead. He wondered if she truly felt that way. "Well, no matter." He replied, his hand searching for another glass to have another drink. "You'll be stuck with me for now."

She moved closer to him, standing only millimetres away from him. Reaching up to take his face in her hands, making him look at her, look him in the eye. "I'm glad. I owe you so much." She whispered. For the second time, in a short while, she kissed him. Only this time, softly and tenderly. Hoping he could sense her sincerity within the kiss.

If he hadn't sensed the sincerity in her voice he suddenly tasted it off her lips. The kiss was gentle and loving and made him feel a slight regret for having been rough with her when he'd taken her virginity earlier on. His arms circled around her waist as he deepened the kiss. Then when they both had to gasp for air he locked his blue eyes with hers. "You should 'ave been more. You should 'ave been a pure-blood." He mused, not having intended to say that out loud but meaning what he said.

What he had absentmindedly spoke, were like a knife in her heart. She had the sudden need to get out of his arms, she moved to back out, but his arms held her tight. Keeping her where she was. "And if wishes were horses..." She trailed off, breathing herself through the ache in her chest. Inwardly, she decided she wasn't going to let his ingrained prejudices affect her. She could and would show him, that Muggle born or not, she was just as good as the rest.

He smirked down at her now, having seen the effort of her to keep up a brave face at his words and how she had actually wanted to be out of his arms. He pulled her closer and whispered in her ear. "You'll be getting a new life now." And then he let go of her. "The camp of the snatchers." He said, gesturing about. "Always in a forest, always somewhere we can apparate to." He gazed at her. "During the day I will be out snatching, 'unting, 'owever you'd like to call it."

"So I'm not going to be held here?" Her face brightened at the thought of being able to be in the open and not surrounded by death eaters all the time. Snatchers weren't technically better, but she had more faith that he could command them not to touch or harm her. For now, she had faith that she was safe. As safe as she could be. Guilt washed through her, thinking of the danger her two best friends were still in, the danger they could be putting themselves into, just to find her. Her only consolation, was that with Ron still injured, they wouldn't get very far. "So..." She repeated. "What happens now?"

"What 'appens now?" He repeated her wonder. "This." He took her up in his strong arms and in one swift motion had her over his shoulder, much like a sack of potatoes. Earning him a small squeak from her in surprise. He grinned as he patted her backside and then apparated with her in this same potion back to the snatchers camp. Once there he still held her in this same way as he walked up to his fellow men.

"What's that boss?" One of them asked. "One for the ministry?"

He held onto her tightly. "No, this one's mine. No comments and no touching, understood? Or I'll rip your 'ead off."

The other snatchers scooted away from him, obviously frightened and impressed. Scabior carried Hermione to one of the many tents and entered it with her. Only then he set her back onto her feet.

It took her moment to gather herself, almost swaying on her feet from the last few moments. A smile broke onto her face, his behaviour had been so unexpected. In a good way. And the way he had just, ordered his men, and they took it. "They really do anything you want, don't they?" She couldn't keep the awed tone out of her voice. Not meaning to judge him, but it was obvious that he had fought for the power he had. He was a salt of the earth kind of man, not someone that was brought up to think that everyone should automatically bow down to him. She gained a little respect for him for that. Taking a small glance around the tent, it was clearly all him. Obvious that it was his tent.

He grunted. "I am their leader, if that's what you mean. They work under me or for me. And don't complain." He watched her closely, seeing her stifle a yawn. "Mostly because thanks to me, they earn a lot of gold." He moved over to the bed, sitting on the edge, before swinging his legs up, crossing them over one another, folding his arm beneath his head. "Why don't you lie down, love? You look tired enough." A small smirk, curling half of his lips.

Slowly and tentatively, she moved the other side of the bed, crawling onto it. Hiding a winch as parts of protested the movements and pressure caused by sitting on her heels. Oddly, she was almost overcome by the urge to cuddle up against him, the only stopping her was that he didn't appear to bet he snuggling type. Gently, she reclined onto the bed, lying on her side facing him. "So you think they only stay because of what you can make for them?"

He hmphed but vouched no reply. Her words got him thinking though. Yes, there was a slight dislike to those with foul blood, but not as bad as he always made everyone belief he had. His plan was simple. He would do a job which wasn't thought of too highly but which the Dark Lord would appreciate him from. That way, if the war was to end with Voldemort winning, he'd be safe and have a chance to lead a more quiet life afterwards with a family like he always had imagined it to be.

On the other hand he'd chosen a job which wouldn't make him look too dangerous, or too important. If Harry's side would win he still have the chance to lead that normal life he wanted. He wouldn't be a big fish or a threat. He would be a man hardly anyone would remember, for most people he met were those he snatched. And those he snatched usually didn't live to tell on him. All in all it sounded perfect. With his brains he could easily have become a right hand man to Voldemort, but he had decided against it. And with his long legs and quick speed becoming a snatcher had seemed to be the most logical and most safe option of all.

She realised his silence was simply because she was asking too many questions, he had a quality that she enjoyed. He was open with her. Telling her things the way they were, not sugar coating anything. She watched him silently, as he seemed so deep in thought. Taking the opportunity to finally, really, study him. Her eyes swept from his boots to the top of his head, trying not to smile at the messy nest that rested atop his head.

Mostly she studied his eyes, the crystalline colour of his eyes. In other circumstances, she would have allowed herself to think them beautiful. His eyes were the only thing that seemed to be paradoxical the to rest of him. The eyes were meant to be the gateway to the soul. If true, then he wasn't the brute he made himself out to be. She had seen so much in his eyes already, though she hadn't understood most of it, or any of it really. But now she knew, that she cold at least find the truth in them. With very little forethought, she shifted slightly, moving her top half to rest her head on his chest, suddenly hearing the boom of his heartbeat.

Without thinking he placed his hand on her back, his fingers caressing her shoulder as she placed her head against his chest. It felt oddly comfortable, a thing he had not expected. Sure, he had wanted the girl ever since he'd first smelled her scent - it had intrigued him- and ever since he'd seen her for the very first time he wanted to feel her around him. But he had not thought he might feel more than just plain lust around her.

Her bosom was pressing against his chest, which was nice, and her arms were next to him. All in all she felt wonderfully warm against him and he could feel how his little snatcher started to react. Unwanted. He should not be craving for the Mudblood so much. But he was. Just like it bothered him that she was in love with someone who wasn't him. Just like it bothered him that she was best of friends with someone else who was not him.

"Mione," His voice was low as he started to toy with her hair. She was as much as his slave now.

Instantly, she was comforted, just by the simple gesture of his arm around her. It was almost like if she closed her eyes, she could pretend that most of what happened that day, had all been some figment of her imagination. Some parts she would change, others she wouldn't. She angled her face towards his as he said her name. Oddly, the nickname had never appealed to her before she heard him say it. Remaining silent, she waited for him to continue, not wanting to ask yet another question.

He knew that what he was going to say was silly, and not at all as his usual self. He didn't even know whether he was truly interested in hearing her answer and he figured he was not. But at the same time there were so many questions nagging inside his mind, so many things he wondered about. " Tell me about yourself." It was a command rather than a question by the sound of it. His voice had been harsh and low.

Now it was her turn to be left speechless and stunned. That was the last thing she had expected him to ask her. She had no idea where to begin, or even what he wanted to know. So, she started at the beginning, talking about her life before and during Hogwarts. She didn't really leave anything out, but keep things that involved Harry or Ron... short. Clipped. Seeing as though the thought of them seemed to upset him earlier. She recounted everything she could remember, half way through, she lost her chronological method, now haphazardly telling him things. For comfort sake, she had moved one arm, until it was resting over his stomach.

He listened calmly to her, enjoying the sound of her smooth voice and the way she talked about her childhood memories. He agreed with her choice of having a cat, he somehow liked those creatures, though dogs he didn't mind either. He silently applauded her courage and her bravery, but also that she had owned a time turner which she had used to follow each lesson possible. She must be a very smart witch after all and he gave an approving nod. "What are dentists, exactly?" he suddenly asked, for he knew little to nil about muggles.

A small laugh escaped her, at the question that seemed to be asked of her more and more these days. "Well, they help take care of peoples teeth. Give advice on how to keep then clean and strong. Take them out when they are rotten or broken. That kind of thing. Anything to do with teeth." She explained, idly toying with one of the buttons on his shirt. Her eyes drooped a little, tiredness sweeping over her now that she was relaxing somewhat.

"They can't use magic to make their teeth stay..." He raised a brow and chuckled lowly at her. "I forgot." He quickly added. Of course Muggles could do no such things as magic. It was a real riddle to him as to why creatures such as them existed in the first place. They did not seem to add any value to the world. They could do so little. He glanced down at the worried looking Hermione who was still cuddled against his chest. She smelled lovely, nice, and felt so good against him. And to be frank, she felt good when he'd been inside of her too. Perhaps Muggles did have a function.

She smiled at his forgetfulness, her eyes staying closed this time. She knew she didn't need to explain why that wasn't possible. She gave a closed mouthed yawn, before trying to peel her eyes open. Her eyes just weren't listening to her now. She fidgeted until she found that perfectly comfortable spot.

"Sleep pet." He mumbled, his hand travelling to play with the ends of her soft hair, a small undistinguishable smile on his lips, watching the young witch fall asleep on his chest. Feeling her body relax against him, hearing her breathing even out as sleep came to collect her. This would never do though, in this position, she would be able to get away from him. Waiting until she had been asleep for just long enough, he slowly pulled his arm out from underneath her head, rolling onto his side, facing her. He stifled a chuckled as she automatically began to move closer to him, wrapping an arm around her tightly, holding her against his chest with one strong arm. He summoned a blanket on top of them and with that, the Snatcher settled down to sleep.

He didn't know what was to come, but he knew, that it was going to be interesting.


	4. Chapter 4

**It is a little short, but I hope you enjoy. :) And again, thank you so much for the reviews, they really mean a lot. My sincerest apologies for the delay on getting this chapter up. The next will be much longer and won't take so long in posting. **

A week had passed since the night she had been captured. Turned herself over more like. Things were strange, though not in the usual way. What was strange was that they were able to be around each other, understand each other. Her wand had been confiscated and hidden somewhere. She was essentially powerless. He left her 'bound' each time he went out. It was so uncomfortable, she wished he wouldn't do it. That was why she hated understanding him, she knew why he did it. His life would be forfeit if she ever got away. And though she found this, sometimes, almost like a holiday, a break from all the turmoil that had been going on, she knew she had to escape.

It was no easy thing, but she had all day, very many long hours during the day, while he was 'working', to think about it. But each plan fell short on one point. How was she going to get her legs to work? She may have been the brightest witch of her age, but it had to be said, he was bloody smart too. Incapacitating her legs, there was no feeling, no movement left in them when he charmed them. And now, as dusk was bridging on the horizon, she was once again waiting for him to return. She wondered if this was all just some small little game he wanted to play. Make her want him to come back. Shaken from her thoughts as the loud cracks, signalling the return of some of the Snatchers, she sat up straighter. Eyeing the door eagerly. She really needed to move, for more reasons than one.

Suddenly back in the Snatchers camp, Scabior eyed his men with a smirk. It had been a good day, they had caught several on the wanted list and handed them over, for the price of course. His men were all in high spirits. If only they remembered this, when things were slow. When the money began to run out. But never mind that now, their pockets were lined with coins. With nothing more than a simple nod to his second in charge, he left the almost cheerful group, to release his pet. Removing the charms on the door, and stepping inside. Another smirk came to his face, the way she was eyeing the door and yet trying to appear not to. With a wave of his wand, her legs came back to life.

He took a seat in a chair, watching her bounce out of the bed and begin to stretch out her achy limbs. He loved this part of the day, each time, his mouth would run dry. Watching her slender frame bend this way and that. If she wasn't so innocent, he would think she was doing this just to torture him, get revenge for him leaving her all day. But still, it was worth it just for this little show. He had contemplated not charming her each day. She had never tried to get away from him, never once tried to escape. Creep out in the middle of the night. She just stayed snuggled in his arms. Though she was a bloody fidget. As she came to the end of her little stretch routine, he was about to reach for her, she bounded off to the bathroom. He chuckled lowly in his throat, knowing he had been away for a long time today.

Exiting the bathroom, she felt so much better, having the use of her legs and this small bit of freedom was like getting and outstanding on a test for her. Now it was one of the greatest feelings in the world. Her breathing hitched as her eyes fell on him. He had the smile again, that twinkle in his eye that told her the same debate they had with each other almost every night was coming. They both naturally stood on opposite sides. Never a resolution. Though that was because he would give into a baser instinct.

Perching herself on the edge of the bed, her hands together in between her knees, she chewed her bottom lip. She was simply waiting for it. She always let him start these little debates. He would always find something.

"What makes you so different?" He asked, resting one foot on his other knee, resting his head against the fingers on his right hand, the bull ring glimmering in the light.

"I'm not different." She countered.

"You are, your a mudblood, but with the brains of a pureblood."

"So, just because I am a muggle born, I should be stupid? Sorry to disappoint." She countered once again. "Sadly, your little ideal doesn't work. I know of several, incredibly stupid pure bloods. Who's main goal in life is to eat Hogwarts empty."

A small smirk appeared on his face, he was just getting her started. He had an almost perverse love of watching how her eyes would glimmer like fire when she was arguing his beliefs. The way her cheeks would flush as her temper grew.

"Well yes. You should be. You shouldn't have such a deep knowledge of the magical realm. You should be grateful that you are allowed to be a part of it."

"The knowledge I have comes from many hours of hard work, late nights studying to push myself forward. And grateful? Look at where being a part of this world has landed me!" She exclaimed, with a flourish of her hand. "Why do you think that Blood has anything to do with it?"

"It's what I was brought up to believe. It's what I still believe."

"Even after meeting me? You cling to this archaic thought, that your blood is any different to mine. That because magic has been 'in the family' for generations, that it makes you better than me. Well it doesn't."

"Doesn't it though?"

"No! It doesn't!" She told him emphatically. "It just means that ... you lived with magic all your life. And nine times out of ten, that you're richer and more spoilt. Simple."

"Not all of us it doesn't." He smirked.

She had the audacity to roll her eyes at him, he was taking things so personal and close to home. She was certain he wasn't a rich man, not doing something like this, living this way. Though he may simply have an ulterior motive for the war. She was mostly drawing her conclusions from people like Draco or Pansy.

And so the debate continued, grew more heated, so much so that Hermione had stood and began to pace the room, her sharp mind using the motion to intensify her thought process. He was purposely pushing her more tonight, he wanted to see how far he could take it before she really lost temper, before she actually lost that tight knit control on herself. His sharp eyes watched every single movement she made, while appearing completely relaxed.

"So why don't I fit into this little ideal you have of Muggle Borns?"

One eyebrow rose as she posed the question to him, a rather good one, though he had his answer ready. It was something he had figured out days before, during one of their other debates, but the opportunity had never presented itself, but now it had. He almost couldn't suppress the wicked grin that begged to wash across his face.

"There is always the exception to the rule love."

Hermione was stumped. For once, she had no immediate argument. Nothing was coming to mind. A small part of her hated him right then. He had actually won. He had come up with something she couldn't dispute. Her eyes flitted from one side to another as she tried to concoct a reasonable answer, but nothing came to mind. Her mouth opening and closing like a goldfish for a moment.

Before she could final a thought however, he was up and across the room, his hands grabbing her waist and pulling her closer, his lips on hers. He had just won and he wasn't going to let anything spoil the moment. He was proud of himself, he had beaten her intellectually. Living with the men he did, he was forever superior. In body, in mind. In Everything. Though she was young, he regarded her as what she was, his intellectual rival for now. Without it denting his ego, she was the smartest witch of her age.

As with every night, she gave herself to him willingly, without much instigation from him. The act taking them into the very early hours of the morning. Both sated, he manoeuvred them into they usual sleeping arrangement, her back against his front, his arm wrapped securely around her waist and one leg in between both of hers. His face buried within the unruly depths of her hair, he shifted slightly to speak in her ear.

"Goodnight... exception." He whispered, feeling just the slightest tensing of her jaw.

"Git." She grumbled back.

His low rumbled chuckle was the last she heard from him that night. She knew that he wouldn't let her forget this victory. In the quiet darkness surrounding them, her mind wandered back to what she should be doing, instead of what she was doing. She had to leave here, soon. Soon though, the soft deep breathing by her ear began to lull her into a dreamless sleep.

As the first rays of light began peek over the trees and into the tent, Scabiors eyes opened. Singly at first, one opening then closing before the other would repeat the action, until he was able to convince them both to stay open. A small fidget drew his attention to the girl that was still in his arms. Like a love struck fool, he watched her sleep for awhile. He wondered yet again, why she was still here. He treated her like she was nothing more than what she was, a pet and a bed mate, that he took great pleasure in teasing. Yet she made no attempt to leave. Not that she could during the day, but as he slept, she could try.

As gently as he could, he extracted his limbs from around her naked form, covering her back with the blankets. He was going to trust her, just this once. He was going to let her sleep and he wasn't going to bind her legs magically. Dressing himself, keeping things as quiet as he could, he made his way to door of the tent. Though he may trust her to have her legs, he wasn't a complete fool. He set the charms on the door, stepping out into the early morning. Gathering his men before disapparating out with them close behind.

Hermione didn't know what time it was when she woke, the light wasn't too bright, so it couldn't be that late. From the moment her brain woke up, she realised what was happening. There was no body behind and around hers, the bed was cold next to her. Rolling, she stretched her legs, just to make sure. She had full use of them. A nervous twist wriggled into her stomach. This was it. This was her chance. Certain she wouldn't get another, she crawled out of bed, dressing in her clothes from the day before as quickly as her shaking hands could move. Without thinking, she raced through the door and out into the surrounding woods. Running as far and as fast as her legs could carry her.


	5. Chapter 5

Scabior wasn't hiding, not really, he was skulking. That was the word he liked to use for it. When he was hunting, waiting for the right moment to show himself. His men all eagerly positioned around, eyeing the person they were going to snatch. Everything waited on his command. His ringed hand twitched, about to give the go ahead when an alarm sounded in his head. The noise made him flinch slightly. Before recognition of what the alarm meant, fury swept through him, how dare she attempt to leave? How dare she attempt to run away from him? With a quiet word in his right hand mans ear, the rest launched into grabbing those on the list. While he disapparated away, back to the camp.

Reappearing back in the camp, he took a deep breath of air, smelling her natural scent and that delectable perfume that always seemed to grace her skin. He knew which way she had gone. He contemplated just apparating to her, but he wanted to chase her. Burn off some of the anger, so he didn't really hurt her. He took off, his legs carrying him with ease. Her scent was what he followed, it was easier than looking to the ground, though evidence was clearly there. It wasn't going to take him long to find her.

Burning. That was the only way to describe the feeling in her lungs and muscles. But still she pushed herself on. She had to keep moving, though she had no idea where she was or how to get out of here. Yet she ran. She couldn't stop. Though she didn't know what he would do to her if he found her, her own imagination was enough to keep her moving. Yet guilt washed its way through her again. He hadn't hurt her; he hadn't treated her too badly. But this was simply more important, to get back to the boys somehow. To finish what they had set out to do. Destroying the horcruxes was purely the most important thing she would ever be a part of. And a blazing, entrances set of blue eyes shouldn't be able to stop her.

Pushing her legs for more speed, almost choking on the same air that would keep her going, she slowed for a moment, hiding herself behind a tree. Leaning forward she rested her hands above her knees, gasping in air. Trying not to give into the lightheaded feeling. A small crack of something behind her, made her take off again. This time, her movements weren't so coordinated. They were slow and she was stumbling, sliding down dips in the forest, forcing her legs to work harder, regaining the ground she had lost. But still she ran.

He could see her, just in front of him. Moving swiftly, it didn't take much for him catch up to her. He was just to the side of her, far enough away that she wouldn't see him till he was on her. He leapt over a branch, landing softly on his feet, his movements taking his in a slight diagonal angle. She was making too much noise for him to be heard. His theory proven correct as he reached out a hand to her arm and hearing her almost squeal when she realised she was caught. He spun her quickly, capturing her within the unbreakable lock of his arms.

"Just what do you think doin' pet?" He growled at her.

Her mouth ran dry, drier than it was from her running, the look in his eyes making her blood run cold. He was angry. More than angry. And at her. She swallowed mechanically, willing herself not to burst into tears as they threatened to do.

"I...I..." She trailed off, uncertain of how to finish her sentence. It was pretty obvious. Pointing that out right now, would likely be a painful choice.

"You what?" He pushed. He wanted to hear it, hear her say the words.

Her breathing hitched, she couldn't pull her eyes from his face, watching the tic in his jaw. Seeing those beautiful eyes shine brightly, coldly. Shine with a deathly promise.

"Running." She whispered, her mouth hardly moving.

He didn't need to be a rocket scientist to know that. But at least he got what he wanted. Her admission. Or was it? Perhaps he was hoping that she would give him some reason why she was running away, something that would be good enough in his mind. So that it wasn't simply her running from him. On a level that he would deny he had, that thought was like a sting to him. Without another word, he began to drag her back to the camp, before he thought better of it. Disapparating with a loud crack to the camp, his feet landing whilst still moving. He pulled her to the tent, disabling the alarm on it, pushing her roughly into his home. Sealing the entrance behind him, he pushed her towards the bed. Then took his usual seat, feet up on the table.

The silence was killing her, he was just sat there. Her mind was racing with thoughts of what he could do to her. What he could be contemplating as a form of punishment. Sadly, she realised that nothing she could think of, could be right. He could do anything. Her breathing intensified, as she looked down at her hands. She wanted to cry. Surely he had to understand that what she did was necessary. That she was only doing what she was meant to. Only, she knew he probably wouldn't see it like that.

As time moved on, so slowly that it was agony. He still wasn't moving, he still wasn't doing anything. She peeked up at him from under her lashes, only to see that he was still in the same position, looking at her, with those predatory eyes fixed on her. She shuddered a breath, things were certainly going to be much worse for her now. Her leg began twitch, nervousness filling every inch of her. Internally, she argued with herself whether or she should broach the subject or not. In the end, she decided to, it was better than torturing herself with thoughts.

"Just... get on with it..." She muttered to him. Forcing herself to face him bravely, hoping nothing on her face betrayed just how scared she was right now.

"Get on with what?" He smirked, almost glad his silence had gotten under her skin.

"Yell at me, or hit me if your going to ...or... just... do whatever it is your going to do." She countered her voice a little higher than she wanted. Her arms wrapping instinctively around her, she had just invited him to. What was she thinking?

"Is that what you think I'm going to do?" He asked, slowly getting up, extending the torture a little longer.

She couldn't take it, not anymore. She stood up quickly, facing him with all the bravery she could muster, facing him. The only show that she was scared, her breath. It was erratic, matching the beat of her heart. Fast and hard. "You're a man of... regulations. You won't let something like this just ... go. So please stop torturing me and just... do it already."

His movements could only be described as stalking, slow and calculated. Until it was the moment to strike, his arms whipping out and grabbing her by the shoulders, his stomach turning at the whimpering noise that came from her. He didn't want her afraid of him. Which for someone who was used to it, counted on peoples fear of him, it was incredible. But still, he needed to show her that this wasn't acceptable. That she could never leave him.

With a gentleness that he shouldn't be putting into it, he gave her a push onto the bed, watching her fall onto the bed. He'd never admit that he hated the look the flashed across her face, that she thought she knew what was going to happen. Keeping up the charade for the moment, he straddled her on the bed, holding her arms down. Leaning down, he rubbed his stubbly cheek against hers to whisper into her ear. His voice low and gruff. He'd never actually do this to her. Instinctively, he knew that if he did, he would lose her forever. To violate her that way, would be the one thing she would curse his balls for.

"Everything you're imagining I'll do you right now, every little thing, I promise I'll do it worse. If you ever try to run away again. Do I make myself clear?"

Her only response, the only one she was capable of, was a small whimper with a nervous nod. She wasn't completely sure what was happening now. Was he really just going to warn her? She got her answer as he got up, straightening his clothes.

"I mean it Mione. I'll be worse than any nightmare you've ever 'ad. Don't try it again." He almost growled at her, before exiting the tent. He had to go back to work. And pray to Merlin, no one found out why he had to disappear for a while from the job. That could be devastating. He could be made to give her up.

Hermione watched his retreating form, staring at the door long after he had left. It was almost unbelievable that she had gotten off with just a warning, but it was one that she would never forget. She wouldn't need to be told twice. He could be capable of anything. And she knew, she would never try to leave him again.


	6. Chapter 6

**Small note. The italics are a flash back. I only do this so that I didn't wrap a twaddle chapter just to have that bit in.**

Chapter 6

Hermiones eyes fluttered open, it was early morning, but the coldness in the bed beside her was what had awoken her. It was strange, how quickly she had grown to like, enjoy, the feeling of his warm body beside her. The nights were getting cold and she couldn't deny that she had been snuggling closer to him each night. Rolling onto her back, she looked up to the roof of his tent. She couldn't figure any of this out. She should be terrified, trying to escape all the time. So why over the last month had they grown into an almost comfortable way of life. Sure, there had been times when she wished that she wasn't here.

But, the more time she spent here, with him, the more she wanted to stay. A level of trust had been found between them, he wasn't always the gentlest of men, but there were moments, that she felt like she meant more to him than she should. A degree of respect had been found between the two. After her emphatic promise that she would never run from him again, things had eased up. A small mistake on his part, had rebuilt the bridge between them. He had forgotten to 'lock' the tent. She had found it, she had only moved a few steps outside the door, taking in deep breaths of fresh air. Finally she had ended up sat on one of the logs around the fire, just taking in the surrounding area.

"_And what is it you think you are doing my lovely?" The deep baritone of his voice sounded behind her. Spinning quickly, part of her panicking, she didn't want him to think that she had been trying to escape again. She didn't want him to make good on his threat. _

"_I... I... I... just... wanted some fresh air." She fumbled the words out, standing up and turning to face him. Her face had been pale, her eyes wide and worried. _

"_Easy now love. I know you weren't running. Or if you were, you weren't making a very good attempt." He chuckled out. Before his eyes, she relaxed, smiling back at him. _

"_I had no intention of leaving, just being out here, feeling the air, was really nice." She said softly. _

_For a long time, he had just looked at her speculatively, almost as if he was deciding something. His head tilted to the side, studying her. Chewing her lips nervously, she wished she could tell what he was thinking at all times. She had her moments, that what he was thinking was clearly visible, but right now, was not one of those times. _

"_Get inside now. Before the others come back." He finally said, nodding his head back towards the tent. With a small nod, she made her way back to the tent, a small uncharacteristic giggle escaping her as he patted her backside on the way past. _

Later that evening, he had given her the greatest surprise of all. He had told her that she was allowed to venture out into the camp, whenever they were away. She was allowed free roam, in and out of the tent. She had hugged him for that, tightly. His gift however was given with a word of caution. That if she went outside, she had to be certain that no one was about. Especially Greyback. That warning was the strongest of all. He spoke for nearly an hour about the horrid things he had either witnessed or heard about. Things that the werewolf had done to women and girls. He didn't want that fate for her.

The way he had been so intent on her knowing, the way he had emphasised that she needed to be cautious, had been one of the first things that made her think that she meant something more to him. If he didn't care, he wouldn't have warned her. He would have let her face her fate. Sometimes there was a look in his eyes. She just couldn't figure it out. It was getting to the point that the thought of leaving him hurt. Sitting up quickly, she realised just what it was she was feeling. She was falling for him. Scrubbing her hands over her face, she didn't know how to deal with this. She shouldn't love him. She couldn't love him.

Pushing the covers off of her, she perched herself on the edge of the bed, combing her hands through her hair, just to get the messy birds nest on her head into some kind of order. She had no idea why he liked it this way. He kept his hair in a messy state as well. He seemed to want hers that way too. After standing and stretching, she made her way outside, forgetting the one basic rule that she had been told. To check to see if everyone else had left.

Easily stepping out of the tent, the morning air hitting her lungs quickly, a bright smile washing over her face, she really was getting used to it here. It wasn't that bad, she had no real big worries, she was fed, allowed to bath when she wanted. She didn't have to worry about the Dark Lord or the coming war, selfishly, she was enjoying that. She didn't even have to worry about the other Snatchers, they may make lewd comments around her sometimes, just to see her reaction. But they all knew not to touch her.

Simply enjoying the serene woodland around her, she didn't hear the approaching footsteps. It wasn't until the hand came around her neck that she realised she wasn't alone.

"What are you doing out of your cage Mudblood?" The voice growled in her ear.

Pure dread and fear coursed through her veins, she knew who the voice belonged to. Almost as if to confirm her thoughts, sharp nails dug into the tender flesh of her neck. And the most vile pungent smell hit her nose. The smell of stale blood, decay and wet dog. She was in the clutches of Greyback.

"I asked you a question." His voice growled again, his grip tightening. A small squeak escaped her before she could stop herself.

A frisson went through the air, she had shown fear, a bad thing around any Snatcher. A fatal thing around a werewolf. This werewolf.

"Let's see just how good a pet you really are." He whispered into her ear. Feeling her stomach roll from nausea, from both the smell and what he said.

Before she could really think, she was pinned underneath him, one of his hands gripping both her wrists above her head. Pathetic whimpering begs and sobs erupting in her chest. She squeezed her eyes shut, deep down she was starting to wish that he would just kill her. Rather than what she knew he was intending.

With a simple charm, her hands were stuck where he placed them, his filthy hands beginning to paw at her, roughly tracing her slim waist. A shudder of revulsion washed over her as his sharp yellowed nails scraped the flesh of her lower stomach. Eyes flying open, a piercing scream echoing through the forest as the sound of material giving way under strain, her torso feeling a chilling rush of air. With a grin that could only be described as wolf like, Greyback's eyes washed over her exposed chest. Her breathing fast and erratic, tears filling her eyes, terrified whines ushering forth from her.

A gruff growling laugh came in response to her panicked pleas. "I prefer it when you scream."

Scabior was having a relatively good day, having woken just before dawn; he had left the camp early with some of his men, sending the rest in another direction. He had found a few runaways and delivered them to the Ministry for a nice sum. The aforementioned sum was currently weighing down his pockets; it was a weight that he thoroughly enjoyed. It was one of those mornings that he felt like enjoying a walk, apparating to half a mile away from camp, he took a leisurely stroll back.

It was times like this, that he loved his work. Humming away lightly to himself, he knew his men would either be back at camp or drinking away their hard earned cash. He really was having a good day. He wondered if he should take a detour, grab a bottle of Fire whiskey and see what Hermione was like drunk. A crooked grin came to him at the thought. That was definitely an interesting idea.

His mood was shattered the moment a scream rent the air, he knew that owner of the scream. Fear knotted into his gut, an odd emotion for him. He took off at a run, his legs carrying him with the usual speed he reserved for chasing down Mudbloods. He made it to the clearing in no time, pushing himself as fast as he could go. Pure unadulterated rage coursed through him at what he saw. How dare the wolf touch the girl? How dare the wolf touch his girl.

In seconds, his sharp eyes and mind had processed the entire scene before him, his Mione was trapped beneath the beast, crying fearfully, struggling against the invisible bonds, pleading with the wolf. He could see the discolouration on her cheek, it looked like she had been hit, the wolf had lost patience. But the part that really pissed the Snatcher off, was that the wolf had his hands on his girl. Before he knew what was happening, his hand grabbed his wand, a curse flying free in the same instant, a chain wrapping around the wolfs neck, then locking around a tree.

Breaking into the clearing of the camp, Scabior moved quickly to Hermione, kneeling down by her side, brushing his fingers against her cheek. Dispelling the curse that held her there, he wasn't surprised when her arms flew around him, sitting herself up. Without hesitation, he lifted her up, feeling her sob into the crook of his shoulder. As soon as he had her back into the safety of his tent, he was going to kill that wolf.

Stepping into the tent, he moved straight to the bed, bending one knee and placing her on it gently. Her arms were locked around him, pulling his arms from around her shaking form, trying to pry her off of him, he understood just how terrified she was, but there was something more pressing for him to be doing right now, to be kicking the hell out of that damned wolf.

"Easy now." He crooned softly. "Let go Mione." He then ordered, grabbing her arms and pulling them off of him. Holding her by the shoulders, he took a moment to study her beautiful face, seeing the mark left by the hand of the wolf. Burning rage swept up into him again, he grabbed a blanket, wrapping it around her shoulders. "Stay 'ere."

With that simple command he stood up and left the tent again, the moment his eyes landed on the trapped wolf, his eyes turned to ice, a cold glare coming from him easily. He strode over the wolf, his wand coming up to point at the wolfs face. His jaw clenched so tight his teeth hurt, his lips curled back into a vicious snarl. Lowering his wand, his other hand clenching so tightly, his knuckles turned white, almost popping out of the skin.

Scabior was never one to shy away from using magic, especially not painful magic, but this was something he wanted to bloody his hands with. The chains were removed from Fenrirs neck, the wolf dropped to the ground. As the wolf begun to stand, Scabior turned his back, both hands now clenched. Spinning, with every ounce of honed reflex he had gained from being a Snatcher, his fist flew up connecting with the side of Fenrirs face. With a sickening pleasure, he felt the bones in his hand protest as they met the bones of Fenrirs face. Hearing a satisfying howl of pain ushering from the wolf.

Before conscious thought came back to him, he reined blow after blow down upon the wolf. He hadn't even heard the sound of the rest of his men apparating in, who now stood back, watching with shocked expressions. None of them had seen him act this way, if he put someone in their place, he normally had the on the ground writhing in pain from using the Cruciatus Curse, never had they seen him act this way. Not one among them had the guts to try and stop him, some even enjoying seeing the wolf being beaten black and blue.

Blind fury was the only thing powering Scabiors blows, he began to slow as he worked out the anger he felt. Finally he finished, his hand gripping around the wolfs neck, pinning him to the ground, in a similar fashion to that of the canine breed, a nice touch, or so Scabior would think later on. Leaning his face in as close as he could to Fenrirs, sneering down at him.

"You ever touch 'er again..." He left the threat open, releasing his grip and standing. Pinning each man with a look so fierce, some of them even took a step back. "This goes for all of you. Any of you touch 'er and I'll kill you like the dogs you are." He growled, looking down before delivering a harsh kick to Fenrirs ribs. Before storming back into his tent.

Some of the anger he felt began to ebb away, the moment he spotted her, curled up into a tight ball on the bed, the blanket wrapped so tightly around her, he was surprised she could still breathe. He could hear the soft sound of her crying. He stopped in his tracks for a moment, seeing the aftermath of something like this. Scabior had done worse to people, to women. Was this the effect he had left them with? Gruffly, he pushed those thoughts aside, he didn't have the time or patience for introspective thoughts right now.

For some strange reason, one he wouldn't admit to himself, he hated seeing her like this. Knowing that had he been just a few minutes later, the wolf could have ruined her, hurt her in a way that would be irreparable. He had no idea how to make any of it better for her, but acting simply on instinct, trying not to think about it, he moved over to the bed, lying down behind her. Pulling her against him, whispering soothing words, words he didn't even know he was capable of speaking.

He felt her turn in his arms, burying her face in his chest, sobs beginning to rise from the silent cries she had adopted beforehand. His brushed his hand through her hair, at a complete loss for something to say, something to do to take this all away for her. Instead, he just kept stroking her hair, kissing the top of her forehead, holding her close. He would never let anything like this happen to her again, he would never let anyone harm her again. She was his girl and he... cared... about her.

He couldn't tell how long they stayed like that, it was strange for him. He was cruel most of the time, now being gentle and comforting was a new experience for him. His ears pricked up as he thought he heard her whisper something, he wasn't sure he heard it until she whispered it again, repeating it over and over again.

"I'm sorry."

Moving quickly, he grabbed her head pulling it back so she had to look at him.

"Don't blame yourself love. 'Es a nasty piece of work." Scabior stopped, he couldn't say too much more without condemning himself in the process. He resumed his comforting actions, unable to speak anymore. Closing his eyes, he had a moment of hating himself, for what he had become, the things he had done. What he had done to her.

Roused from his thoughts he felt her shift in his arms again, opening his eyes, he looked down at her innocent face, his throat going dry at what he was going to have to ask her next.

"Did 'e..." Giving a manly clear of his throat. "Did 'e 'urt you?" His fingers came back up to her cheek, seeing the bruising coming out properly now, he wanted to beat the wolf all over again. She just looked at him, her sad eyes piercing his soul. What was left of it anyway. His eyes now clocked the marking around her neck. The grimy bastard had held her prisoner from the moment it started.

With astonishment, he watched strength come back into her eyes, felt her breathing level out. Leaning up on her elbow, she gave him a tentative smile, almost as if she was embarrassed to have broken down like that. In front of him.

"I need to wash." She said gently, he could see her hesitating slightly, as if she was afraid of leaving his side. But soon enough, she was up and moving to the bathroom area. He couldn't hold back a small smile, she was a tough one, that was for sure. He had to admit, he respected that.

**Side note that I couldn't tell you before. . The inspiration for this chapter goes to Scabior. Having written this chapter ages ago, when he inspired me with one sentence. 'How about Scab beats up Fenrir?' And this ensued from that. xD**


	7. Chapter 7

**A massive apology from me, for the length of time it has taken me to get this chapter written and up. Please please forgive me. I can't promise that I can speed up. But I can promise that I'll try. Thank you so much for all the reviews, they really mean a lot to me. And encourage me to write. **

A couple of days had passed after the incident with the werewolf, but his Mione was still skittish. Even around him. He had debated an internal war with himself whether to continue their usual routine and activities, but a huge voice inside his head had told him to give her a little time. Let her come to him. And that was what he was going to do. Though he almost itched to be inside her again.

An almost silent grumble rumbled in his throat, this was yet another time he found himself focussing on the girl rather than the job at hand. If he wasn't careful, someone might realise just how much she was beginning to mean to him. How much he wanted to possess her. Truly make her his. But that wasn't an option. Not one that would keep them both alive at any rate. So he forced himself to focus on the job at hand, there was a couple of potential truants that needed to be caught and they were just within grasp.

Sitting at the kitchen table, Hermione drummed her fingers on the top, before switching to lightly scratching at it with her nails. She was trying to work up the courage to be normal again. To be like she was. Nothing had happened, just a scare. He had protected her. She was fine. Or at least that was the little mantra that she had been repeating in her head all morning. So far, it wasn't working. She could still too easily recall the damp feel of the earth beneath her, the weight of the wolf above her, the smells of having the beast so close to her. A shudder ran over her as she remember the feel of his nails against her skin.

With an exasperated moan at herself, she pushed herself up from the table and marched herself outside. Planting her feet firmly on the ground, making herself stay there. She kept her back to the entrance of the tent, a protective action, no one could sneak up on her this way. She took a deep calming breath, smelling the sweet fragrance of uninterrupted nature. The outward breath was slow and long. Helping to ease the nerves within her.

After dropping off some the catch of the day, Scabior sauntered through the halls of the Ministry, he didn't care that people were looking at him strange, or moving away from him like he could tell all of their dark secrets. It made him smirk. His hands in his pockets, he adopted the air that he owned the place. And why not? People only ran from others in power. Though his enjoyment of the moment was quickly extinguished as he heard a hushed conversation. Between Pius and what he thought was Bellatrix.

"...time for the Mudblood."

"I don't have her." His low calculated voice answered.

"Then get the Snatcher to bring her to me." She hissed in return.

"The Snatchers are not under my control Madam, surely you know this." Scabior heard, envisioning the sight of the man, leant back in his chair, elbows on the arm rests and the fingertips of his hands resting against one another, creating a triangular shape over his chest.

"Just do it. Or the Dark Lord will know that you failed him." Bellatrix hissed calmly, knowing there was no more of a threat needed.

"I will do what I can." Was the only response he offered.

"Get the Mudblood to the Malfoy Manor the day after tomorrow. Or face the Dark Lord. Your choice." She spat, before a discernable crack signalled her leaving.

Scabior backtracked his steps, heading for the exit. He couldn't hand her over, could he? His life would be the penalty if he refused. But he wasn't going to do it. He couldn't. It made a dull ache, start in his chest, one that began to burn in his chest the more he thought about handing her over. It would be the death of such a beautiful creature.

Just as he was about to walk through the front door, a hand clapped onto his shoulder. Turning just his head, he saw Yaxley standing behind him.

"The Minister would like to see you." His accented voice spoke.

"Later. Busy now." Was all the Snatcher returned, before shaking off the hand on his shoulder and strolling out the door. With a safe distance away from the Ministry, he disapparated to the middle of nowhere. He needed to decide what he was going to do.

Hermione was grateful that Scabior had brought her a book, well acquired one, at any rate. It gave her something to read, and made her feel a little more normal in the current situation. The moving pictures, playing out a little bit of the story behind it fascinated her. It was beautiful to see. It helped her see what she was meant to see within the story. Even if she did picture the characters with different faces.

Romance novels weren't her thing, but the action behind it, the need to protect one another. Looking at from an unbiased perspective, it made an interesting look into the human psyche. It was definitely interesting, so much so, that from her led down on front position on the bed, she didn't notice as the door to the tent opened. Only when the sounds of a bottle hitting the table that she jumped up. Graced with a slightly amused smirk, she bowed her head shyly. He had this unnerving ability of being able to move so silently, be there one moment, then not the next. Without her even knowing it.

Her head tilted to the side as she looked back up at him, he seemed to be like his normal self, but there was something underneath, almost like something under his skin, something bothering him. But a man of pride like he was there was no one he would tell her if anything was bothering him.

Merlin, what was she doing to him? That little siren sitting on the bed, looking at him as she cared, as if she could tell that he wasn't quite the same. It was a nice thought, that anyone could understand him on such a base level. He was a fool, for letting her get under her skin, worm her way into his stone cold heart. Made him think that she was more important than he was to himself.

After their evening meal, he disappeared into the shower, there had been so little conversation that Hermione was starting to think that she had done something wrong. Maybe this was just a small effect of what he had saved her from, maybe because the wolf had touched her, Scabior didn't want her anymore. Or maybe he was just being careful. Thoughts ran though her head as she washed the dishes in the muggle way. Placing a wet wrist on her forehead to try and stop the mental tirade in her head.

As she continued to wash the dishes, nothing would still her thoughts. Nothing at all. She could hear him leaving the shower and all of his movements from there. Though at one point she lost his movements in her head. He was doing something different. Her thoughts stopped instantly as she felt his hands being to rest on his hips. The warmth from his body seeping into the expanse of her back. Her eyes closed as she felt some tension ease from her body. At least he was touching her.

After leaving the shower, he could see the stiff set of form. She was picking up on his tension. It still amazed him. Moving to her, his hands rested on her hips, his body moving closer. His head dipping to the crook of her neck. Inhaling her scent. He almost lost the control he was keeping on himself as she leant back against him. He would let her come to him still, he was just giving her a little nudge. She was still able to say no. Merlin he hoped she wouldn't. One way or another, this was the last time, the last night they would spend together.

Moving the hair away from her neck, he placed, light teasing kisses along her neck line, up to her ear then back down again. He repeated this a couple of times, his arms sliding around her possessively. The quickening in the rise and fall of her chest, told him he was having the effect he wanted. Even though it went against everything he wanted, he unwrapped his arms from her waist, walking back to his chair and relaxing back into it. It was all in her court now.

Her eyes opened, as he pulled away. At least she had her answer, or as close to one as she was going to get. Finishing the dishes as quickly as she could, just leaving them to drip dry. She dried her hands, worrying her bottom lip between her teeth. She had no idea what she was doing, or how to do it. He had always started it. She took slow steps towards him, her hands sliding into her back pockets as she rounded his chair to face him.

His eyes looked up at her, showing nothing within them. She wished she could tell what he was thinking. Without any more thought, she leant down and kissed him, chaste and nervous to start with. Catching just the slightest glimpse of a smirk appear on his face. He seemed to return the kiss willingly, though he was keeping his hands to himself. This confused her, greatly, for a moment, before she realised what he was doing. He was letting her take the lead, making sure that this was something that she wanted. With that thought, she intensified the kiss. Cautiously, she crawled onto his lap. Weaving her hands into his damp hair.

As soon as she had settled herself in his lap, his hands slid up her legs, until he held her hips again, pulling her closer. He couldn't help it. He was a man after all. His hands then slipping up under her shirt, the rough calloused skin of his fingers, trailing over her much softer smoother skin. Feeling her body arch against his touch. His lips kept up with hers, matching the speed and intensity with which she kissed him. His tongue coming up automatically to meet hers, the sensual dance for dominance beginning between then.

He smirked against her lips as her hands began to undo the buttons of his shirt. Her hands delicately, ghosting over his skin. In a momentary lapse of control, he stood, lifting her with him, letting her legs wrap around his waist, he travelled to the bed. Rather than lower her to the bed like usual, he instead, keeping her in his lap as he moved back, getting his legs comfortable.

She knew just what he was doing, and why he was doing it. It warmed her heart more than anything else in the world. It made her want him more. To have more of him than she had ever dared to want before. She also wanted to give more of herself to him than she ever had. Her fingers began to work faster over his buttons until his shirt was hanging loosely from his shoulders. Directing his hands, she lead them to her shirt, signalling what she wanted. It didn't take much for him to comply. There was only a moment of the cooler air touching her now almost bare torso, before the warmth of his body seeped into her.

With quick, heated movements, she removed his shirt. Her hands roaming all over his bare skin, before reaching behind her and likewise removed her bra. In a daring move for her, she moved her chest closer, making their chests connect and rub against each other. His hands however had moved back to her hips, just gently remaining there. It was strange that he was being so passive. Intensifying the kiss and the duelling of their tongues, she reached up to remove the ever present scarf that was around his neck. His hand came up, lightly taking her wrist and moving it away. The slightest shake of his head, telling her not to remove it. What was under there he wanted to keep hidden.

She gently pushed him into a lying position, swinging her legs round so that she could be straddling him. Wantonly she ground her hips against his, earning the most satisfying almost moan from him. In another response, she felt his little snatcher twitch, already making the coil of pleasure in her stomach begin to tighten. Increasing her need for him. With embarrassingly clumsy movements, the rest of their clothes were removed. Hermione back on top of him, kissing him again with full passion. Tentatively, she reached between them, gently wrapping her dainty fingers around him and lightly stroking him.

'_Merlin, if she keeps this up, I'll die from torture before she is satisfied.'_ Scabiors mind taunted, her light touches teasing him to the point that he wanted to take over, but he had to keep this small part of control. Just this little piece, so that this was all, or mostly, her. What she wanted. However, he couldn't stop his hands from wandering, the tips of his fingers ghosting up from her hips, to trace the underside of her breast. The backs of his knuckles gracing the curve before travelling down again. He himself was surprised that he was capable of this kind of gentleness.

There was nothing more difficult for him, than to resist the urge to sink himself into her, not yet though. He lowered his hand further than before, knowing she would never demand it. His fingers slipping in between the folds and massaging her. The instant reaction he got from her, the shameless way she moved against his hand made him grin, he couldn't help it. He truly liked her more than usual like this. She was wild, she was in the movement, she was the embodiment of passion. He was glad that she hadn't lost it.

Then she pulled away from him, he didn't know whether to pout or growl. Opening his eyes, he looked into her face, while his mind chanted, hoping she didn't pick this moment to stop. He would completely lose the rest of his sanity if she did. It was cruel. But then he saw the look upon her face. Ever the faithful student, she was trying to figure out how. With a crooked, lopsided grin, his hands moved to her hips again, angling them just right and positioning himself underneath. His eyes still on hers, oddly, waiting for that shadow of doubt to come into hers. But instead he was met with the most beautiful smile he'd ever seen. As she gave him a small nod, he brought her down, till they were joined. Both moaning in unison.

A part of her brain didn't enjoy that she couldn't do it on her own, while the other, simply, just didn't care. He was showing her a completely new side to himself. He trusted her enough to relinquish control, while he was at his most vulnerable. For her. And although there was utter pleasure from the moment, her mind couldn't help but ask why.

Without being asked, he helped show her the right way to move, how to rock her hips in the right way for them both to enjoy it. Once she had gotten the hang of it, she returned her lips to his. Their moans meeting in the middle of their mouths. As she rode him slowly at first, increasing in speed the more the coil in her stomach tightened. It was certainly different, but the same at the same time. Breaking the kiss, she sat up, sinking herself lower onto his each time.

His hands began to grip the tops of her legs, needing something to stop him from thrusting into her. His resolve didn't last long though. Watching the way her body moved sensually above him, he sat up quickly, fingers gripping her hips controlling her movements and as soon as he was certain of her pattern, he began to thrust against her downward drive. The most delicious, unbridled moan came from her as he did. His mouth attached itself to her neck, licking and sucking her pulse point. Causing her head to roll to the side, allowing him more access. Smirking to himself as she once again upped the pace, wanting more. He knew she was a passionate girl, but not this passionate.

As both their began to tense, waiting for that moment of final release, Sacbior thanked Merlin that he had placed a silencing charm on the tent, a permanent one that would hide anything they did, as her moans grew, the way she was going, she would scream it down around them when she fell over the edge into complete bliss.

As it was, they tumbled over together, both giving a short loud cry. Arms holding onto one another as her insides clung to him, milking him and taking them both to a greater height. Slowly, bit by bit they came back to their bodies and themselves. Scabior lay back, cradling her against his chest. All too soon, he felt his body withdraw from hers and then she rolled onto her side facing him, following suit, he rolled and faced her, drawing her nearer as the sleepy bliss began to overwhelm him. Placing a kiss once upon her brow, before copying it on her lips, he closed his eyes. With a very subtle smile upon his face he began to drift off.

Hermione took a moment to look at their entwined limbs, proud of herself, she closed her eyes as she waited for his deep breathing to take over. Then she knew she would be able to go to sleep herself, once she had said what she needed to say. Just a tiny little thing. As she thought he was asleep, she whispered it as she closed her eyes. "I love you."

Just before sleep completely took him, Scabior thought he heard the strangest yet sweetest thing. But he couldn't have really heard it, could he? He was asleep after all.


	8. Chapter 8

Something was different today, something was going on. Only every time she asked, he retorted with a comment about the amount of questions she asked. He paced occasionally, something he never really did. She had noticed on numerous occasions that he was generally so still, then flying into motion when there was something that he needed or wanted. He had made her jump far too many times by that simple fact. He couldn't still be angry at her, that had been weeks ago. Things had settled back into normalcy, well as normal as their situation was anyway.

He was... agitated. Hermione wished she knew why. Biting her lower lip in an effort not to ask him once again what it was that had him this way; she curled into a ball at the head of the bed, the headboard biting into her back, her knees against her chest, thinking. As the hours crawled by, Scabior came and went from the tent, doing Merlin knew what. She was bound in the tent, there was no way for her to leave, she had found that out the hard and had suffered the consequences for it. But, after all this time, trust, had almost built between them now. Almost. He thought that the reason she didn't try to leave was that he had proved his point, that he could keep her there as long as he liked.

Hermione on the other hand knew the truth; she didn't want to leave him. She loved him. Her eyes widened as she wondered if he had heard her barely audible whisper the night before. As he held her possessively in his arms, his strong body curved around her, permitting her no room to escape. Every night when she felt him fall asleep, listened to his breathing even out just before his arm tightened around her. She would whisper to him that she loved him. Having not worked up the courage to tell him when he was awake. And he had never really shown her that he felt the same. Sure, he was tender with her sometimes, caring even. But then other times, he was the brute he always told her he was. That couldn't be it. She was certain he would have reacted at the time, had it been her almost silent confession to him.

Her mind spiralled into thoughts of what it could be. She was only left with speculation. What if the Dark Lord had decided he wanted to use her to get to Harry now? That had been the original plan hadn't it. The reason that the Dark Lord had allowed her to become Scabiors' 'pet' was so that the Snatcher could use her as bait. She shuddered at the thought. What if he handed her over as if she meant nothing to him? The thought tore at her heart.

After hours of being alone with her thoughts, she barely noticed Scabior enter the tent once again. He looked almost smug for a moment until his eyes landed on her, still curled up on the bed. Sauntering over to her and dumping himself on the bed in an almost flamboyant way. She couldn't help the smile tugging at the edges of her lips that was one of the things that she loved about him, his little quirks. Finally, looking up into his bright blue orbs, as ever there was an unreadable emotion, within them. From outside, there was a loud crack, with what she could only assume was the rest of the Snatchers apparating away. Silence fell over everything again. Still, he said nothing, only looked at her.

"You need to escape 'Mione." Scabior said finally, his gaze never faltering from her own. Her lips parted in shock. "Tonight." He grumbled. Hermione however unable to comprehend what he was saying stared at him blankly.

"I... don't understand." She tried. "I can't. They'll... He'll kill you." She finally protested, a low thrumming ache forming in her chest, her eyes stinging with the threat of tears. Holding them back only because he always appeared disgusted with her when she cried. It made him uncomfortable.

"No 'e won't. I can't 'elp that you found your wand and knocked me out before disabling the wards on this tent and ran off, now can I?" He answered, that smug look crossing his face again. "It's settled 'Mione." He said confidently.

She could only shake her head, slowly, numbly. She didn't want to leave him. She loved him. And this was almost a confirmation that he didn't feel anything close to what she felt for him. "I won't do that to you." She pleaded with him.

He near enough growled at her, here he was, giving her what he thought she wanted, to get back to the boy that wouldn't die and the ginger. His thoughts darkening yet again at the mere thought of the Ginger one. The boy Scabior thought his 'Mione loved. "You will do it. It wasn't a request." He grumbled to her, before pushing himself up off of the bed.

Her mind raced, far too many thoughts running circles around her skull. She couldn't do that to him, she couldn't hurt him, not after everything. Not after he saved her life, not now that he was giving her the order to leave. The only thing that even made her contemplate it was that she would be able to get back to the boys. So that she could help put an end to the war, then he would be free. But how?

"Aside from the potential threat that you will be killed for my 'escape', I won't find my way out of this forest and we both know it. I'll never find my way back to them." She whispered, unsure about what his reaction would be. "Although, for appearances sake, I could... set a trap. So that once you return, you get... Well, the first part of your original plan." She choked out, feeling a lump form in the back of her throat. She couldn't leave him, she didn't want to. The ache in her chest was growing, almost as if she could feel the fracture begin. The start of her heart beginning to break.

Within minutes, the plan was set. The trap was set, so that once he walked back in, it would trigger. In the pit of her stomach was a swirling mass of worry, fear, loss and guilt. She knew just how much he was risking getting her free. But why? He had always made the claim that she was his now. A claim that had annoyed her for a long time, but now, she relished in it. Every time he said it, it lifted her heart.

And so it was all set, a smaller trap set above the door, one that he didn't know about, a precaution on her part. So that Legilimens couldn't be used against him. A small Obliviate spell that would stop him from remembering their parting. At least for a little while. If she did her work well enough, he would remember only after he had made his apologies to the Dark Lord for losing her. Or at least that was her plan.

"C'mon Mione, get a move on." He grumbled from behind her. Before striding over, grabbing her arm and dragging her from the tent, that was his home. His grip was tight, causing her to clench and unclench her arm a few times, trying to relieve the tension. Just by his pace, she knew that he was as close as he came to being nervous. They were short on time, he only had until his men came back to get her to where she had to go and get back and be knocked out. As soon as they were out of the clearing that Snatchers camp was settled, he apparated them to a spot she couldn't recognise. She couldn't recognise any part of the woods if she was truthful. Scabior landed in the same stride he left off in, barely slowing for Hermione to catch her footing. She knew better than to ask where they were going, all she would get would be a cocky remark, something like, 'the forest love'.

As a rise in the earth entered their view, he pulled her to a stop with him. For the first time she saw something else within his eyes. It was the only way she had ever been able to tell what was going through his mind, his eyes gave everything away. Well, almost everything. If she was asked to put a name to it, she would swear that she was seeing sadness within the glittering blue orbs.

"Up there. You'll find one of your friends." He told her with a curt nod. Crossing his arms in front of him, shifting his weight from one leg to the other, and the shock on her face giving him great satisfaction. Watching as she opened her mouth, no doubt to ask how he had managed to get them here. With a wave of his hand, he silenced her. A small part of him glad that he would be rid of her incessant questioning. It was now her turn to surprise him, before he could even gauge her reaction, she flung her arms around him. Loosening one arm, he patted her awkwardly on the back. This was something he didn't expect, he thought she would be happy to be rid of him. Finally be free of him. "Get off Mione. And get moving." He said, sneakily trying to take a deep breath of her perfume.

He still didn't know what was possessing him to do this, why he was putting himself on the line like this. If the Dark Lord found out what he had done, he would suffer painfully. If he wasn't killed for it. As her embrace tightened, he moved his arms to extricate her from around his neck. This was the most bizarre behaviour. She always appeared so indifferent to him. He never had really figured her out. She let him have his way with her whenever he wanted, enjoyed it, he made sure of that. She challenged him with her own views whenever she wanted. This had led to their debates. Sometimes, he had even thought she was ... comfortable with him. Being around him. He watched as she debated her next move, the look on her face the classic one she wore every time. Right before she kissed him. So when she did, he was not surprised. He allowed her this only because he wanted it too.

"Go on." He told her, his voice a little husky. Looking down at her, he physically turned her and gave her a customary pat on the backside. The strangest sound escaped her, a choked laugh added with a slight sob. It was foolishness on his behalf. Perhaps he wanted to believe that she was sad that she was leaving him.

Facing the hill, knowing that one of her best friends was up there, she was truly torn. She felt as if she wasn't ready yet. She knew that being back with the boys, she would be back to doing what was right, but leaving the man she loved tore her into a thousand pieces. But, she was Hermione Granger, the girl that did everything that was right. Forcing herself to move she made her way up the ridge, hearing her name be called as she came to the top. She took the chance to look back, saddened that she wasn't graced with one last look at him. Her heart heavy, she moved on, trying to pinpoint the area that her name was being called from. And then she saw him, Harry, wading through the autumnal leaves and twigs. She ran straight for him, the friends embracing tightly. And she wept. The main appearance was that she was simply happy to be free and to the relative safety of her friends. The truth was, deep down, she was certain that she would never see him again. They had just shared their last and final moments together.

Scabior watched hidden in the shadows, as was his usual tactic. A small, yet oddly undeniable part of him, wanted to make sure that she made it back to the boy. There were worse men out there. Men much worse than he was. As he heard her make it to him, he closed his eyes trying to block out the derivative voice in the back of his head, the one questioning why he bothered. The Mudblood was nothing to him after all. Right? With a quick turn, satisfied that she had made it to him safely, he made his way back to the camp. After a short walk he apparated with a loud crack.

Once back at the camp, he was glad to see that none of his men were back yet. Good, that meant he still had time to walk into the trap. Reaching his tent, he set off the unknown trap, stopping abruptly as something hit him. It didn't take long for it to take effect, he no longer remembered ever planning to let her go, or all that followed. A deep frown appeared on his brow, suddenly unsure what he was doing. Well you're stood in front of your tent... His mind piped up. Assuming that he must have been about to go in. Pushing the entrance flap out of the way, his trained gaze automatically searching for the girl that was his captive and his pet. His gaze sharpened further, his eyes taking on a deeper colour, she was no where to be seen. She couldn't get free. It was impossible to get out without him knowing. With one final step, he triggered the trap that would knock him out. It happened faster than his sharp reflexes were able to counter. As he fell to the floor, he had one last thought. _That's my girl Mione._ Before the floor came up to meet him and the world went black.


	9. Chapter 9

**Thank you so much for the reviews! I love each one of them and they do keep me writing even though I am so short on time right now. **

Harry held onto her like tightly, while she wept, the only thing he could think of was that she had been through such an ordeal that finally being safe, she was overwhelmed with happiness. At least, that was the best scenario he could imagine. It would be weird if she was crying for any other reason. If it was for any other reason, he realised then that it wouldn't matter. As long as she was alive and alright, that was all that mattered. Gently he rubbed her back, trying to soothe her as best as he could. Looking down at her, as he felt her pull away, one of her arms pulled away from him, he watched her silently wipe away her tears. It was only now that he saw just how small she was. He had always seen her as the same as him and Ron, only now she seemed so much smaller.

The journey back to the tent was a slow one. Her heart was trying to pull her back in the opposite direction, back to the man she had just had to leave. This making the journey slow. Her mind kept telling her it was for the best, she was where she was needed to be, But rationalisation couldn't help heal the part of that had long since needed him. Harry held her hand the entire way, having the sense not to ask her any questions. He was so happy to have her back, alive and well, even though he could see she was different. Changed. But if she wanted to talk to him, she would. One thing he knew, was that if she didn't want to, there would be no forcing her. The silence was difficult for him, that was not how he had imagined this to be.

"Ron will be glad to see you again. He hasn't shut up about it since we found the note." He tried, using a cheery tone. He frowned deeply as she stopped suddenly. He couldn't understand the look of... horror, on her face.

"What's wrong?" He asked quickly.

"He'll never forgive me." She whispered.

Harry's initial response was a simple frown, which then shaped into a deeper one. "For being kidnapped? Go easy on yourself Hermione. It could happen to..." He was cut off by the last thing that he expected to hear.

"For loving someone on the other side. For being in love with a Snatcher." She confessed.

A long pregnant pause followed as Harry processed it. He could barely believe his ears.

"Then don't tell him yet. Lets get you back and settled before we think of it."

Her only response was to nod.

Back at the camp, the second they came into view and were spotted by Ron, he raced to her, throwing his arms around her hugging her tightly. She gave him a one armed hug, her other hand still in Harrys.

"Bloody hell Hermione. We were so worried." Ron mumbled into her hair. "What happened to you?"

Her hand tightened on Harrys.

"Let her get used to being back first mate."

"I'm tired." She added, pulling back and releasing Ron. A small detail, which didn't go unnoticed by Ron, that they were holding hands. Still. "Can I go to bed?"

"You don't need to ask 'Mione. We don't own you." Ron spoke quickly and carelessly.

She flinched at the nickname, not liking that he used it, it was the nickname Scabior had given her. Finally letting go, she traipsed into the tent, moving to her bunk, she pulled the cover back and curled up inside. It felt wrong. It was too small, too cold and too empty. There was no strong arms around her or deep even breathing gently moving her hair. Closing her eyes, she tried to will herself to sleep.

"Blimey, I've never seen her like this. It must have been bloody horrid. Must have treated her like a slave." Ron commented quietly after she had disappeared into the tent.

"Maybe. It might not have been so bad." Harry muttered, her earlier confession ringing in his ears once again. "She doesn't look harmed. And they let her go."

Ron remained sceptical but dropped it. "You weren't followed were you?"

"No. If they wanted to Snatch us, they would have by now. Whoever sent us that note knows where we are." Harry pointed out, clapping Ron on the shoulder, heading into the tent, leaving Ron on watch. As he lay down in his own bunk, the sound of soft breathing filled his ears. It was good to have her back.

When Scabior started to come round, his head was killing him. It was throbbing in several different places. And if what that was that was shaking him didn't stop, he was going to brutally make them stop. Unless it was Hermione, then he would only make her stop. His eyes flew open as she popped into his head. The little minx had managed to get away from.

"Boss!" The young Snatcher tried again.

"For Merlins sake, I'm awake. Stop bloody shaking me will you?" He growled, twitching his shoulder to shake off the hand. With a groan he couldn't hold in, he pushed himself up, his head reeling slightly.

"The girls gone." A familiar voice growled. There was no other word for it. His voice always a growl, a remnant of the fact that the man was now more wolf than man.

"I'm aware of that Greyback. The lumps on my 'ead prove it without a doubt." He snapped, he was in no mood for this. At all. He had just lost his favourite pet and now he had the werewolf on his back

"How could you let her go?" Fenrir barked.

"I didn't let her go." His hand came up to rub the back of his head. "I came back to the tent and she was gone. A nasty little surprise waiting for me. Knocked me out so I couldn't go after 'er." He inwardly groaned at the feel of his head. So it appeared he hadn't made as much of a point as he thought he had. He would get her back alright.

"You're to go to the Dark Lord." Greyback growled.

"Let me guess, you've already told 'im. Went running to 'im like the good little dog you are?" Scabior griped.

Greybacks only response was to growl, lowering his body as if to pounce.

"Thought so." Scabior then sighed deeply. This was going to be fun. After his promise that she would never get away from him. "Fine. I'm going." He snapped, bending to pick his wand up before leaving the tent. He was going to pay for this, he could feel it. And it was going to hurt. Most annoyingly, he didn't have the answers they would want. Like how she got her hands on her wand again. With a deep sigh and a loud crack he disapparated.

That little vixen had gotten away from him and he didn't even know how. Somehow, she had gotten hold of her wand. Hit him with a nasty curse and bolted. If he ever got his hands on her, he would kill her with his bare hands. If he made it through himself.

He stood outside the door waiting to be summoned. He wouldn't admit it, but he was nervous, possibly even a little scared. And as the door by the side of him clicked open, he knew he was about to face a fate worse than Azkaban. He sauntered into the chamber, his eyes searching for the Dark Lord, sweeping into a deep, humble bow as he spotted him.

"You failed Snatcher."

"Yes, M'lord." He answered from his still bowing position.

"I find it peculiar, so soon after I ordered for her to be of use." The Dark Lord hissed.

"You did?" Scabior had instant understanding. It did look dodgy to his altered mind.

And then he felt it, a prickling feeling in his head, that soon turned into the worst pain he'd ever felt. He dropped to his knees, his hands clutching at his head, as his teeth bared in a painful grimace. The Dark Lord was searching his mind. Looking to see if he'd had ant involvement in her escape. As if he would. After what felt like an eternity, it finally subsided, his arms dropping to the floor, as he regained himself. He didn't bother standing again.

"Interesting. You almost formed an... attachment to the girl. And she seemed to show one to you. But it was enough was it? For her to stay." This gained a disgusted groan from Bellatrix, one of the few Death Eaters in the room.

"I don't give a rat arse about the mudblood. She was amusing, that's all." The Snatcher countered breathlessly.

"Is that why you wouldn't share her with the wolf?"

"She wouldn't be any use to me once 'e was done with 'er. Or you for that matter." Scabior commented, his answer seeming to appease Voldemort some.

"Then all that is left, is your punishment."

"Mind rape wasn't enough then?"

Scabiors only answer was a searing, agonising pain in his entire body. His limbs and back contorting into shapes that had he been able to see it, he wouldn't have thought possible. He was a swift, limber man but not to those degrees. He held the hope that once this let up, it would be over. But this was to be a lesson in both never failing the Dark Lord again and in never being stupid enough to hope.

The Crusiatus curse was replaced by the feeling of a thousand pokers, searing every inch of his, burning and melting it tracks along his skin. His teeth clamped together, the sinews and muscles in his neck, stretching out of his skin as he held back the cries of pain. Next was like knives were being dragged his skin. He could feel the sting as air touched the exposed nerve endings, as if the cuts were real. He was compelled to his knees, arms stretching out to the side of him, his chest becoming the focus of the knife cuts. Along with that, his mind was being picked through again. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't stop the hoarse cry that ripped from his throat.

As this finished, there was one final thing he had to endure, a whipping from he best lieutenant. A real one. As his hands begin to strip his top half, he knew he was under the imperious curse. The sound of heels, practically dancing across the floor as he remained in the martyrs position. The Snatcher didn't want to think about what was going to happen. Or the extra loathing he would have of the witch behind him. And as the first strike flew, he closed his eyes and he wished her the best. Thinking she had better make something of her life for him to go through this.

Hermione tossed and turned in her bed, she could almost feel that something was going on. It was like a pain was travelling across the world to her. From someone she was connected to. She knew that Harry and Ron were fine, they were here with her. And that only left one other person. Scabior. He must have been being punished. And the thought tore at her heart, a small part of her wished that he had handed her over. That way, he wouldn't be going through whatever he was going through.

Her worst thoughts couldn't compare to the reality however. She still held the naive hope that what she had set up, the memory loss charm. That he wouldn't have to go through this, that she was just tormenting herself. Worrying for nothing. It was a nice thought, that he was out, searching for people again. Or at the camp with his men, drinking fire whisky. If only she could believe that, she might be able to sleep.

After finally dozing off for a short time, she was awoken by the sound of footsteps entering the tent, in her half waking state, she didn't notice that she wasn't in his tent anymore, so when the footsteps stilled away from her, followed by the creak of another bunk being laid down upon. She couldn't stop the breaking of her heart. With a cold hard slap, she was back in reality, knowing exactly where she was. She couldn't, nor would she, deny the sting in her eyes, as she wept for what she had lost. Curling herself into a tight ball, she tried to hold herself in a similar way to how he would. Hoping it would help her back into the dozing state she had been in before. Though only when the sky began to lighten did exhaustion take her over. And a pair of bright blue eye filled her vision.

Finally it was over, the Dark Lord had deemed that the punishment would suffice. Having disapparated Scabior back to his tent, perhaps with the hope that he would be splinched in the process, though he was lucky this time. Falling directly onto his bed, that enticing vanilla scent swept into his senses. Filling them. Rage and disappointment flooded into him. As soon as he was better, he was going to find her and make good on his promise to what he would do if she ever left him. His back stung from the hundreds of whip lashes Bellatrix had inflicted on him.

He was honestly too tired to even try to fetch the potion he had to help heal his wounds, he would just stay here and sleep for now. Start the real recovery in the morning. With a groan he shed himself of his jacket, hissing as the material of his clothes stuck to the open wounds on his back, followed by another hiss as the air seemed to attack them as well. But finally, with thoughts of revenge, for her leaving him, for making him feel something toward her and for even, maybe, making him doubt that mudbloods could be anything better than they were, he fell into the abyss of sleep. With images of things that never happened, or so he thought, filtered into his mind. Showing him the truth. A truth he would never believe.

**I have to say, I hate what I did to Scabior here. But sadly, it had to be done. He wouldn't have gotten away with it. Don't hate me for it ... O.o **

**And big thank you to Emily and LuxSignifer. You have helped me more than you know in getting something better into this chapter. 3 **


	10. Chapter 10

**Finally an update! I am very sorry for the delay. This has actually been a difficult chapter to write as it's not from mine or Scabs heads. I know it is not word perfect to the movie, but hey, this is from memory. With my little twist on how it happened! ;) Thank you again for all the reviews and hope you enjoy the next chapter of this little love story! **

In the passing weeks, the snatchers need to find and grab the girl again grew, he resented that she had made him think that there was the possibility that there was decency in anyone. That there was a chance that someone could give a damn about him. And so, he waited and hunted. Waiting for the moment that he could snatch her and make her pay. If he was the wishing type, he would have wished that his dreams weren't what they were. Haunted by her, of actions and words that hadn't happened. Of looks and smiles that had been misread. He couldn't wait to get his hands on her. He was going to show her just why she shouldn't have messed with him.

The trio had decided to make a small relocation with their camp. It wasn't far from the original, the distance they could travel by foot within a day. Ron's shoulder was still bad and the incoming cold weather was having a bad effect on his pain. Having set up many, many enchantments around the camp, in a wide circle, they relaxed a little, focussing their attention on the Horcrux, trying to destroy it. And not fall apart as the close friends they were, though the Horcrux was not helping them in that respect. Harry would approach Hermione from time to time, to get her to tell him what had happened in the Snatchers camp, but she wasn't ready to tell them.

They took it in turns to guard the camp at night, through the night they would change every few hours or so. Just so they all got the chance to sleep while it was dark. Ron's shifts were shorter than the other two, the weather really didn't help his shoulder, but he was finally on the mend. Or at least starting to. But his mood was forever dipping lower and lower. They had decided to continue their journey on foot for now. To avoid any other incidents of anyone being splinched. After a few weeks, Hermione thought it would be a good time to perform the counter curse to her obliviate spell. Out in the dark during one of her night time shifts of watching, she grabbed her wand and focussed all her mind onto the man she intended it for. With a soft whisper she said the word that should revive his memory of all their time together. "Memorate."

Miles away on the other side of the country, Scabior was directing his men to move in for the capture, he was going to take a back seat on this one, see if they could capture someone without his legs. Without his speed and what state they would be in when they got there. He would step in if he had to. Just as the seizure of the wanted mudbloods was under way, a painful and hard hitting headache started in the front of his head then travelled all the way through. Hitting him like a freight train. Gripping onto a tree to steady himself, he cursed under his breath, thankful that none of his men would witness this.

More confusing however was what came flooding through his mind, memories upon memories of Hermione. Including remembering what she had done to protect him from being found out by the Dark Lord. Recovering himself, he smirked, taking off after the target, he had changed his mind, suddenly in a better mood than he had been in weeks. The feelings of betrayal and deceit lifting from his shoulders. The capture was incredibly easier with him on board. Strutting like a peacock back at the camp, he decided to join his men rather than sitting in his tent and brooding in on how he was going to punish her. Oh he was going to get her back alright, she was his after all. It would just be nicer than anything he had come up with before.

After a couple more weeks, the Trio found themselves in the woods again, buried deep within it, a wide circle of enchantments around them. It was Hermione's turn on watch, as she sat outside against a tree, a book in her lap. Until she heard a twig snap in the distance, placing the book down she got to her feet, treading carefully until she was at the boundary of the enchantments. Then her breath stilled in her chest. There coming towards her, was three Snatchers, one with a poor soul over his shoulder. One was Fenrir Greyback, which made her hope that he wouldn't be able to know that she was there. But then her Snatcher came into view, striding as if he was the king of the world. Holding her breath, she watched him move past her before his muffled voice cut through enchantments.

"What's that?" He said as he paused. "What's that… smell?" He repeated and expanded, as he retraced his steps, stopping just the other side of the boundary. Time seemed to stand still as the most beautiful vanilla scent hit his nose. One he knew so well. Only he couldn't see her. 'Clever girl 'Mione. Clever girl.' He thought, a small smirk crept onto half of his lips. On the side that the others wouldn't be able to see. The sound of something clunking onto the ground broke him from looking where he thought her eyes would be, turning around he spoke again to them "What're you doing?"

"He's heavy." The unknown snatcher replied

"Aww, want me to carry 'im?"

"Yeah…" He was cut off.

"Pick 'im up…" Scabior trailed off as he began walking away. He may not have seen her, but he knew she was as safe as she could be, and for the next couple of days, he would make sure that no raids were done in that area, within a fifteen mile radius. Just to give them a head start.

As he began to move away, she let her breath out. Relaxing, as it appeared that her spell had worked or he just didn't remember her at all. But either way, she and the boys were safe for now. Then another familiar voice sounded.

"Snatchers." Harry said from behind her.

"Yes." She replied as she folded her arms across her waist.

"Yours?" Harry enquired. Making her wonder just how long he had been there.

"Yes. He could smell it. My perfume." She answered, still in a slight haze of what had happened.

"You need…"

"I know Harry. I will. I promise." She told him genuinely. As they began to descend down the hill, they returned to a small part of their prior conversation.

"Well as lovely as your perfume is Hermione, maybe just don't wear any…"

Meanwhile, Ron was hovering just inside the tent getting the completely wrong idea.

Within a couple of days, all hell broke loose, Ron and Harry had a fight, Ron left. They had waited as long as they could but had to leave. Apparating to somewhere completely different. The moment they arrived, she burst into tears. Partly because they had left their best friend behind, but also because now Scabior wouldn't know where they were. A part of her liked him knowing, it made her feel a bit safer. She left a pink scarf tied around a tree, a symbol to either Ron or Scabior. Which, she didn't know.

One night on a tall outcrop of rocks, she couldn't hide her sadness, listening to the radio as Ron had done, waiting and listening for any news of the two she missed dearly. She was surprised when Harry took her hand and made her dance with him. He was trying his best for her. At the end of the dance however her melancholy mood took over once again. She returned to her cot bunk. Sitting on the edge of it.

"Harry… do you really want to know?"

"Of course. I want to know what's going on with you. You've never been like this." He replied, taking steps to join her on the bunk. Once he was situated, he turned to her waiting for her to launch into her story. She told him everything. Well almost. She left out most of the intimate parts. Just giving him a slight nod of her head with a 'you know' to explain. After she finished, she fidgeted, waiting for him to explode at her. Instead he pulled her into a hug, the only way he could express that he understood. From that moment on, they had a greater understanding of one another. A greater friendship and greater bond.

The journey continued, taking them all over the country, to the forest of dean. And many other places. Ron returned and they finally ended up visiting Mr Lovegood. For information on the Deathly Hallows. After learning about it, mayhem had ensued. They found themselves back in yet another forest. After a brief conversation, they found themselves face to face with a group of Snatchers. Within a second, Hermione felt a rush of so many things. She was facing her Snatcher. Within moments, she noted that he was wearing her scarf, she took a step forward to him, but knew she had to back up.

"Ello Beautiful." He said, voice ringing clear into the clearing.

Reluctantly, for her, she and the others broke into a run, knowing that the chase would ensue.

Standing against the tree, playing with the scarf she had left , he watched them all take off at a dead run, this was the part of the job he lived for. "Well don't 'ang about. Snatch 'em." He let the others take the lead, there was only one prize on his mind. He held back, allowing himself the chance to watch her run and work her magic. Making absolute fools of his men. He smirked in spite of himself, he was proud of her, of how well she was dealing with it. His legs automatically sped up, pushing himself harder and faster, until he almost had her. With a slight launch he tackled her to the ground. He didn't like that she squeaked beneath him. He rolled her over and she stopped dead.

Giving her a smile, feeling her arms on his, her face was flushed from the run and the exertion of casting while doing so. His hand moved up, brushing some hair out of her face. He felt a swell of emotion roll through him. Here was his girl, no matter what. She would always be his. The warmth radiating from her body, soaked into his body, her scent clouded his judgement, making him want to sweep her into his arms and run away. Forget it all. Leaning his head forward, he rested it on her forehead, closing his eyes. Well aware that he would be invading her space, his entire body was.

"Why'd you run from me beautiful?" He whispered, knowing they were safe from other eyes.

"I have to." She explained, feeling her heart tear into a thousand pieces. She couldn't abandon her mission now. Even though feeling him so close destroyed her resolve. She had missed him so much in the past months. He gave her a slight nod, she felt it rather than saw it.

"You know I'll have to turn you in."

"Yes." She croaked, feeling her heart break even more. She felt his forehead crease against hers for a moment before he rolled off her.

"Go then. And I'll catch you in a minute." He drew his legs up against his chest, allowing her to get up. He would let her catch up with the others before really letting loose. After she took off, he gave it few moments, before standing and slowly taking off after her. He kept his pace slow and restricted until she was closer to the others, once again, blasting the hell out of his men again. A wry smirk on his face. But he knew the jig was up once his men surrounded them. He almost wished she would continue to fight, show them what she was really made of, that passion fuelled fire within her, that he was certain he was the only one to ever witness.

From the moment they were surrounded, panic rose in Hermione's chest. She spun, hitting Harry with a stinging jinx, then taking the Horcrux from him. She partially heard what he was saying but was quickly prised away by a snatcher, one she fought. With all her might. Shouting out for them to leave Ron alone after watching him be punched in the stomach. Then his voice sounded as he sauntered down a hill.

"Your boyfriend will get much worse than that, if he doesn't learn… to behave himself."

She felt it like a cold blow to the gut. He knew that she thought she had had feelings for him. It felt cruel the way he used it now. But then again she knew this was all part of the show, part of the play. He continued his descent and she couldn't look at him for the moment. "What 'appened to you ugly? …." There was a slight pause. "No, not you." He said pointing to Fenrir. Continuing to struggle against the vile snatcher behind her, she only partly listened to the conversation that was happening. She couldn't believe that Fenrir didn't recognise her. Then he was coming towards her, her heart skipping a beat and holding out hope that he would have some trick up his sleeve for getting them out of this.

"And you.. my lovely…" He said, giving a small frown to the man holding her and jostling her about. "What do they call you?"

"Penelope Clearwater. Half Blood." She answered with a shaky voice, his hand was reaching for her hair and her face began to tilt towards his, going in for the kiss, like they had done so many times before. Just managing to stop herself. He buried his nose in her hair, taking a deep breath. Her stomach dropped, this felt like a goodbye, like he was taking in her scent for the last time.

"I'm sorry beautiful." He whispered in her ear just before one of his men spoke again. He gave her a lasting look before moving away. He couldn't hide the truth from them all. They had their hands on Harry Potter and he just couldn't let them go. He would be killed for it. So he made a show of finding the scar on Harry's forehead. Muttering to the ones closest, but his voice carried through the forest.

"Change of plan…. we're not taking these to the Ministry."

With a quick flash, the entire group disapparated, landing in the long would be drive way of the most monstrous building. The Malfoy Manor. Scabior held Potter by the scruff of his neck, he had let Fenrir take his girl. Though he regretted it. Expecting how she would feel about it.

In fact, Hermione was slipping into another melancholy, her throat dry and parched, fear the only thing keeping her moving. It was becoming quite clear that she would be left here. That there was nothing he could do. And being in the grip of Fenrir again made her skin crawl and tremble. It didn't help that he was growling in her ear the things he would do to her if he was allowed to keep her. That day in the forest coming back clear and strong into her mind.

"Knock it off Fenrir. You know very well you won't get 'er as a chew toy." Scabior growled back at the wolf, hoping to relieve some of the worry within her. He presented the boy to the crazy witch behind the gate, and then they were allowed permission to enter the Manor. Directing them to the Grand Hall within. He brandished them to all within the room, smirking his self-satisfied smirk. As Harry was taken from his grasp, he reached out and took Hermione from the wolf, laying an arm around her shoulders, wishing he could offer her some comfort, then letting his arm drop to her backside, it looked far too casual and cosy the way it had been before. Them inspecting Harry didn't bother him, he was quickly trying to come up with a plan, to save her. Some way of bargaining with the crazy witch. But right now he was drawing a blank.

Hermione stood rigid, though what she wanted to do was crawl into one of her Snatchers pockets and stay there forever. Clumsily moving as he moved her into Fenrirs grasp again, addressing Lucius Malfoy. Telling him not to forget who actually caught the trio. Within a blink of an eye, Bellatrix's temperament had changed at seeing the sword of Gryffindor in the possession of one the snatchers, lashing out at both Fenrir and Scabior. Nearly choking the life out of him after he questioned whether she was mad or not. In the commotion Ron had pulled her out of the firing line. She saw Scabior get up and clutch at his neck drawing in air. She caught his eye for a moment, just a moment, but the look was clear. He was sorry. He was leaving her here. Hermione was dying inside.

With a pensive 'sorry' look, he backed out of the room, leaving his girl in there with a mad woman. He hoped she had seen the look in his eye, that he didn't want to leave her there, and that he wanted to be the hero she saw him as. It just wasn't him though. Not really. Had it just been one, maybe two. He would have taken them and then taken her far away. He rubbed his neck, which still stung and burned from Bellatrix using her wand as a whip.

The wolf was grumbling by his side, complaining under his breath about the crazy witch. Scabior had no mind to answer or even contribute to what the wolf was saying. All that was on his mind was what would be happening to Hermione right now. An ache in his chest had started, a sinking, nauseating feeling in his stomach. He could have really just handed her over for her death. He couldn't have bargained again for her life. He wasn't in their good graces, not after she had gotten away. There was nothing he could do. Not that he didn't want to. He just couldn't. Had it been a couple of months ago, before his memory had been restored, he would have done this gladly. But he knew the truth. That she had protected him when she didn't have to.

Having had enough for one day, the only thing he said to the wolf, was that they didn't need to do anymore today. He disapparated back to camp. Hoping that it was simply his mind playing tricks on him, that he hadn't really just heard Hermione scream in pain. Appearing back in his tent, he winced inwardly, as the sound kept playing over and over in his head. He headed straight for the Fire Whiskey. He wanted to forget everything that had just happened. What he had just done.

"You're a sick man Scabior. You tell yourself you care about 'er and look what you do. 'And 'er to the craziest, sickest witch alive." He growled to himself, downing shot after shot of the potent drink. It was good stuff, it was working. His mind was slowing, the sound was growing quieter and quieter. Till there was nothing left in his mind other than a dull buzz. Stumbling from his chair, he landed in a heap on the bed, falling asleep immediately. Only to be haunted by her beautiful face once again.

Meanwhile the witch had had her fun with Hermione, emblazoning her arm with the most vile of words, before they were finally helped into escape by Dobby. Making their way to Shell Cottage. She didn't want to believe that he had just left her there. Left her to face whatever fate had installed for her. She was heartbroken. Truly heartbroken. Holding it in, she resigned herself to finish what they Trio had started.


	11. Chapter 11

**It has been an age since I last updated. I know. I am very sorry. Due to many reasons. I am not sure whether I should write the original intended ending or leaving it at this. Either way, you won't like me for the ending. ;) Thank you all for your patience. And continued support. And I hope you like this one. Ever yours, SmartyWitchMione. **

The Battle of Hogwarts was over. Everyone had scars in one form or another. There was too much loss, each person there felt it acutely. Though it was a joyous time, a time when all could look to the future and see that there was no overlying shadow, the festivities were punctuated by the people they would never see again, by the ache in their hearts that told them there was someone missing from this. There was no place that made this more apparent than the Weasley home. All tried to put on the brave face, but it was clear that losing Fred would make this home completely different.

As Hermione lay in bed, watching the early sun rise through the small window panes, the blanket lying low on her stomach, the night of the battle ran through her mind again. She had spent the entire battle oblivious of what had happened on the bridge. Which was just as well, in retrospect, it was for the best, or she may have just lay down and waited for one of the Death Eaters to finish her off and send her to her lover. Of course there had been the bigger confusion of what had happened between her and Ron down in the Chamber of Secrets. And how to him that translated to them being an item. Having never breached the subject of her time with the Snatcher with him, it was easy to fall into the pretence of it being true. Ron had taken the death of his brother exceptionally hard, being the person that he choose to confide in about it, it seemed to her that he felt it more than anyone. Of course this wasn't true. Though seeing the small light in Mrs Weasleys eyes when she saw them together, made staying with him for now worth it.

The day passed with mostly awkward silence as each person within the household tried to come to terms with the loss. TIme passed at uneven increments, sometimes it would race by, others it would slow to a crawl. As she sat, watching the fire flicker slowly, the occasional pop or spark hardly catching her notice. A mug, long gone cold, resting steadily on her leg, one hand curled and looped into the handle. Most people hated it when time seemed to go so slowly, but not Hermione, not recently. The slower time passed, the less time she was apart from him and the more time that she was able to be alone. At least that was what she told herself. Ever since the end of the war, her two best friends had stayed by her side, Harry did only because he knew she was 'delicate' at the moment. And Ron because of the kiss in the Chamber of Secrets and her near drunken flirting at the Victory party. She tried to avoid time alone with either of them, one would make her shed tears she didn't want to let fall, and the other would be looking for more romance. Which she couldn't face just yet.

If she unfocussed her eyes, just enough, staring at nothing in particular, she could almost delude herself that she was back at his camp, in his tent. The noises in the floors above, the sounds of his Snatchers moving. Those close by footsteps, him, finally returning. Only they weren't, as her focus came back, the person stood by the sofa wasn't the tall, well built frame. Covered in plaid trousers or the long leather jacket. It was Harry and not her Scabior. She held onto the hope that he would just appear in front of her one night, give her a quick ''Ello beautiful' and act like nothing had changed. She gave Harry the hint of a smile.

He sat by the side of her, knowing she had avoided moments like these with him. A comfortable silence, for her at least, settled between them. Several blessedly long minutes of silence passed.

"You haven't cried once have you?" He asked, sounding almost unsure.

"I've cried as much as everyone Harry." She deflected easily.

"Not for 'him' you haven't" He replied in a stronger tone.

Another, much shorter silence overcame her. Simply because someone else mentioning him brought it all to the forefront. The cold harsh reality.

"I can't." She whispered, the sound feeble and quavering as she fought the lump in her throat and the sting in her eyes.

"Hermione... you need too..."

"No." She cut him off. Taking a shuddering breath, before giving him the explanation he wanted. "If I let one tear fall, it means it's true, it's real. And that... I've accepted it." She stopped because she couldn't continue, her throat constricting as a swell of pain fractured her fragile heart.

Harry leaned over cupping her face in his hands, turning her face until he was able to look her dead in the eyes.

"It is true. He didn't survive, so many witnessed him fall. I think you know that on a deeper level. The tears in your eyes prove it." He spoke softly, hating himself for making her feel this pain.

She shook her head slightly. "He could have saved himself. They never found ... him. You don't know him, he's smart. He could have..."

"Stop." He whispered. "It's time to let go."

She fought it as long as she could, but her rational mind couldn't deny that what Harry was telling her was the truth. And with that, the first tear fell. Heart wrenching sobs racked her body, shaking it to very core, making her tremble and quake in its wake. The largest part of her heart was dying within her chest, dying alongside the death of the man she loved. Laying cradled in Harry's arms, Hermione was selfish, she was loud, showing the pain that continued to etch its way through her veins. An open chasm within her, that acceptance of a fate she didn't want to believe came crashing down upon her.

Weeping herself into exhaustion, the sobs began to subside and even out into shallow breaths. Letting her sleep, Harry's mind wandered, thinking of ways that he could her alleviate her pain. How he could help her say goodbye and begin to move on with her life. Dawn was just approaching as the house began to stir, Mrs Weasley shuffled her way into the room, spotting the both of them. Noting the way that Harry held her like a sister.

"The poor dear… I heard her during the night… The crying…" With a mothers love for them both, she looked at Harry. Seeing him incline his head only slightly, almost too afraid of movement in case he woke Hermione.

"Yes. The reality of everything seemed to jump on her last night."

"She is lucky to have had you with her Harry." A gentle pat on the arm signalled the end of the conversation, there was only so much holding it together that the family could do at the moment. Making her way out of the living room, Mrs Weasley set about the usual routine for the morning.

Waking Hermione as breakfast was called, they joined the family at the silent table, each lost in their own world of grief. It was shocking when a voice piped up in the middle as inspiration hit one mind to help another.

"Hermione and I will be going out for a bit later, there is something that we need to do." Harry called across the table, including himself in the little ritual of telling each other if they would be away. Squeezing her hand under the table, he wasn't going to tell her where they were going until they were there.

With the defences around Hogwarts down so soon after the War, Apparation into the grounds was easy, and not a privilege solely for the Headmaster. At the furthest end of the bridge from the school, Seamus' handiwork had done its job, like the master pyrotechnic that he was. Charred remains was all that was left, jutting pieces of wood sticking out here and there. There had been a quick clean up and burial of all bodies found, some beyond recognition from the explosion and/or fall.

"Why did you bring me here Harry?" Hermione asked him, her eyes fixated half way across the gap, where in her mind's eye, she could see it all play out in her head, her voice coarse and broken.

"To really say goodbye. To let your logical mind take in everything, the gap, the rocks and water below. You need to see it." Having known her for 7 years, he knew that she needed proof on most things. That she needed things to be in an educational way.

Her hand gripped onto the one remaining post that had been the beginning of the bridges structure. Her nails digging into the softened wood. A clawed fist gripped her heart as she knew he was right, she could see it, there would be no way to survive it. Not even with the devils luck he lived by. Hanging her head low, tears dropping from her eyes straight to the water below, she wept silently until resolution crept its way into her mind. With a deep breath, she stared out at the open water, her lip trembling as she tried to stifle the tears and the constriction within her throat.

"Goodbye. I'll always love you." With that said, she took Harrys hand and disapparated from the bridge with haste.

On pebble stone beach, lay a body, that was beaten, bloody and bruised. Stinging from the salt water that was washing over it. Long leather jacket swaying to one way then the other with the waves. Messy bird nest hair lay strewn all around the head. Stones bit into the cheek, until the irritation caused bright blue orbs to open and focus once again on a world he thought he would never return to as he dropped.


	12. Chapter 12

**Authors note…. And indulgence.  
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**Hello all my lovelies, **

**I know I never completed this story and there is one main reason, I couldn't bring myself to say goodbye to them, so with that in mind, I pose to you all now. Would you like for there to be a sequel? A happy ending of sorts. I would love for any feedback on this. I will only write it, if you want it. However, there are a few other stories that I want to bring to life on these pages, but again, I would like any and all feedback on this.**

**Thank you all for the reviews and for keeping this alive for me. :) **


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